Run Away
by LivingInImaginary
Summary: Rachel’s eyes widen. “And why will I need all my clothes?” “We’re getting the hell out of here.”
1. The Agreement

**A/N: Okay, so, I was working on another one-shot today. But I got a lot of requests and queries in my last (and first) one-shot about continuing it. So I sort of took an over-used story line and brought it to life, because I think this would be an awesome couple for this storyline. **

**Here we are, the (short, sorry) beginning of my Glee multi-chap. **

**Anyway, enjoy,**

**& R&R.

* * *

**

The moment sort of stopped around them. The hallways were busy as hell and it was an alright day – until now, that is. Rachel's breath was heaving, and her heart slammed against her ribcage angrily and quickly until she swore she _felt _it shatter.

She saw Puck standing there too. He wasn't moving. He just stood there with his back to her and his shoulders slumped. She could practically see his face in her mind right now.

Quinn was holding her little baby girl in her arms, all pink-cheeked and wide-eyed. Rachel wished she could wipe away the image of Finn's face when he saw her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but when she opened them, he was _holding _the kid.

If her heart had shattered before, those pieces were dust now.

Puck pushes several kids over and heads outside. Glancing at Finn one last time and feeling a searing pain in her heart, Rachel ducks and swerves around people and runs out the door after him. He's sitting against the gym wall on the dirty car park floor. He looks so . . . angry and sad and sullen. In all the same ways he's still Puck, but this time it's just _different_.

He looks up at her momentarily, and there's nothing in his eyes, but at the same time that look means _everything_. She blinks back, uncertain, before sliding down next to him and sighing.

"He . . . Still chose . . . _Her_. After all the crap and the lies and his _stupid _little hissy fit, he went crawling back to her. He's going to play Daddy to _my_ kid and she's going to act as if she has his eyes and his smile and all that crap," Puck spits, clenching his fist and watching his knuckles whiten.

"I- I know," she whispers back, her trembling fingers playing with a rock.

"He chose _her _over _you _and she chose _him _over me-"

"_I know!_" Rachel hisses. Like she needed to be reminded.

He opens his mouth to apologise, but then he remembers he really doesn't _do _apologies, so he shuts his hole and settles for closing his eyes instead. "I'm so _sick _of this."

There's a long pause before she asks, "Sick of what?"

"Them. Being here. Having to watch _my _kid grow up with my best friend- wait, no, _ex_-best friend. It's all a big load of shit."

"Uh huh," she agrees absentmindedly.

They sit in silence before he gives her one last look and stands up abruptly. "I have an idea."

"Oh, _congratulations_, Noah Puckerman, I bet that's a first."

His mouth forms a tight line. She's gotten a hell of a lot better at the whole joke-thing since she started talking to him. But still, he's not stupid, just incredibly lazy, and that was offensive to his demeanour. "Shut up. Seriously, I have a _great idea_. I must be a fucking genius, to be honest. You have to agree with it before I tell you, though."

Rachel shifts uncomfortably, feeling suspicious. "Why?"

"Because you'll say no if I tell you."

"Do you really think that's encouraging me to agree with you right now?"

"It should be."

She sighs, because she feels too weak not to take him up on whatever it is and she can't stand feeling as useless as she does right now. Plus, he's always been excellent at manipulating people with that smirk of his. "Will I get arrested?"

Puck rolls his eyes and shakes his head, because that would be kind of cool. He's been arrested before, but being arrested with Rachel Berry? He'd have to get an award for that. No one could get a girl like her to do something bad enough to even get the cops on her tail.

Rachel bites her lip. "Okay, say I concur; will I get hurt in anyway?"

"For the love of God . . . No, you will not get hurt."

"As long as I'm still in mint-condition – that being clean and not broken-limbed or something-"

"Is that a yes?"

Rachel sighs and shrugs. "Yes. It's a yes."

Puck smirks, pacing in front of her. He doesn't want to tell her what she's just agreed to without having her scream so the windows shattered (she can do that, you know; break glass). "Okay, sweet. So, your going to need all your clothes. Have you got a bag that big? Wait, whatever, I don't care-"

Rachel's eyes widen. "And why will I need all my clothes?"

"We're getting the hell out of here."

"_WHAT?!" _

"Too late," Puck grins, shrugging. His smile is an uneven, unnatural thing in times like these. But he's just roped Rachel Berry into running away with him, so he feels like he deserves some sort of break.

Rachel takes a deep breath, before letting out a small laugh and shaking her head. There was _no way _this was happening. She wasn't going to leave Lima. She had Glee and her Dads and F-

Well, she didn't have much really.

"No, just-No, no- Ugh. What did you have in mind?"

Puck smirks that classic (and half-fake) smile again, because he knows he's got her now.


	2. The Elaborate Lie

**A/N: I had a spare (and incredibly rare) moment, so I thought I would update. I logged on and had over 50 author alerts, favourite authors, favourite story and story alerts. I'm super excited about this story! Even I can't wait to see what happens next and I'm sort of . . . You know . . . Writing it. **

**Review, _please _:)**

She stares at her empty suitcase and sighs because she has no idea how she ever agreed to this.

But then she remembers Finn and Quin and Rose 'Rosie' Fabray and her gut wrenches. That's when she flings open her closet doors and flings every piece of clothing she owns into her bag because she's just so _sick _of having to be here. It's surprising her and Puck are anywhere near the same wavelength, but he's just as exhausted and heartbroken as she is (even if he won't admit it).

Angrily, she throws in her most favourite CD's and pillow. Some sick kind of relief floods through her body as she hears the shatter of one of the cases. It's kind of calming – and awakening to how crazy she's being right now.

Rachel flops onto her beg and stares at her ceiling. She hadn't thought this through at all. What would her Dads say if she just walked out the door with all her possessions? She couldn't just drop off the face of the planet.

Rachel bit her lip and sat up. _Maybe_ she could get away with it, but she'd have to make a pretty elaborate lie.

"DADDY!" she yelled, flitting down the staircase.

"Darling?"

"Oh hi, Daddy! I have some _very _important news," she says, smiling a wide grin. It's forced and has too much effort, but she's a performer, so she doesn't crack the façade.

Her father nods and leans against the bench, continuing to stir his Alfredo past in a constant circular motion. "Sure, sweetheart."

Rachel sits down, faking enthusiasm and smoothing out her skirt. "_Well_, Daddy, as the summer break is coming up soon, and we have regional's straight after that. Since we'll be away from each other for so long, Mr Schuester was thinking it'd be a great idea to go on some team-bonding old fashion camping!"

Mr Berry's head snapped up. "Camping? All summer?"

Rachel nodded enthusiastically as her second father walked in.

"What's all this fuss about then?" he asks, dipping his finger in the Alfredo pasting and smiling as he tastes it. "That's delicious, Arnold!"

"Oh, thank you. I added a little parmesan cheese, and not so much butter. I think it really brings out its inner flavour, don't you? Also-"

"Daddy, please! It would mean _a lot_ to me," Rachel begged, channelling her inner actress

Her Dad sat down next to her. "What's going on, Rachel?"

Rachel smiles. "Mr Schuester wants to have a glee camp over the summer! Doesn't that sound exciting?"

Her Dad nodded and smiled back. "That sounds excellent! It's just what you and your team needs right now! Just think about it! Why, you and all your friends, leaning on each other and caring for each other . . . It'll be so civilised and harmonious! Don't you agree, Arnold?"

Her Daddy just raised an eyebrow and started serving the pasta into bowls. "Well, when does it start?"

Rachel took a deep breath. Puck had really wanted to get out here fast. "Tomorrow?"

"Absolutely not!"

Her Dad stood up and crossed the room, taking her Daddy's hand. "Now, now, Rachel's talent is finally shining. Is everyone else going, Rachel?"

Rachel nodded persistently. "Of course!"

"This will be a good thing for her, Arnold. And it's free, Rachel?"

"Oh, yes. We're just camping."

"Oh, fine! As long as you're packed and ready, I suppose you may as well go. Just-" He sighed. "Just have fun, Rachel."

"Thank you," she whispers, kissing both her fathers on the forehead and skipping out the room.

Once she reaches the staircase, though, she feels guilt weighing down on her shoulders. She had just lied to both her parents. This was _so_ not good. What if they found out? What if the school got in trouble because she had gone around making excuses as to why she was running away with a boy? Not just any boy, either, Noah Puckerman: Official Badass.

She takes a deep breath, reminds herself of _why_ she's doing this in the first place, and strides into her room to continue packing.

At least, if she's going to wallow in self-pity all summer, she'll have someone to wallow with.

Even if that boy if Noah Puckerman: Official Badass.

-

She says goodbye early that morning as her parents leave for work. There are birds cooing and the sun is rising, and she almost feels as if this is a _good_ decision. She can't be sure though, because it involves Puck.

It's hard to concentrate on anything while she waits for him to pick her up. She tries on three different outfits, which _totally _messes up the way she packed her bag, so she takes that out and starts all over again.

After all that packing and un-packing, she realises her skirt is crinkled. It takes a good fifteen minutes before she realises she can't flatten it out with her hands, so she slides it off and takes out the ironing board. But then her shirt looks creased compared to the skirt, so she decides to take that off and iron it too.

Once her outfit is done, she sits down on the couch and tries to watch television. But she's never been one for pointless medical drama shows, and that's all that's on right now, so she turns off the TV and fidgets in silence.

After all that, she realises it's only eight-thirty and she's only been waiting an hour and a half.

Some twenty minutes later, Puck's rusted old truck finally appears in front of her house and she heaves a sigh of relief. He slides out, jumping up her stairs two at a time and banging on her door eagerly. He looks just as on edge as she feels.

"Hey."

"Hey," he replies, bounding into her living room.

"Would you like anything to eat?" she offers, gazing out the window carefully.

Puck thinks about it for a second, but then shakes his head. "We'll get something on the way. I just- I can't wait to _go_, you know? Like, this is going to be a really good thing. We're only missing a week of school, which is good, because I don't think I could stand another hour with Finn before having to knock his fucking lights out."

Rachel nods, biting her lip. That's _exactly _how she feels – even the wanting-to-knock-Finn-out bit, but that kind of revolved more around Quinn for her. She'd never gotten into a fight though, and was kind of disgusted at herself for thinking like that. "I know what you mean. Did you have to lie to your mother?"

"Nah, she didn't care. She was in tears on the couch like every usual night, so I just mentioned it to her. She nodded and smiled and asked me, 'Is she Jewish?'But she's like that, so whatever."

There was an awkward silence while Rachel took that in.

"So, should we go now?" he asks after a minute, looking around. Rachel smiles a little and nods weakly, dragging her suitcase over from next the couch. He hoists it over his shoulder and heads out the door.

Taking one last deep breath and wondering what the heck is wrong with her, Rachel locks the door behind her and takes the passenger seat.

"You ready?" Puck asks as he pulls down his seatbelt.

She shrugs faintly. "Not really."

"Me neither."

The engine roars to life as he thrusts the keys in the ignition. Rachel says a silent, nervous goodbye to her house as he backs out of the driveway and onto the road.

She has no idea where this is going, and that terrifies her.


	3. The Music

**A/N: Bless you all. Seriously, guys, you're fantastic. **

Once they reach the highway, Puck puts on a CD. It's Kiss (or Kizz or whatever they like to call themselves) and she immediately wants him to turn it down. She doesn't say that though, because she's trying _really _hard not to be annoying. Rachel doesn't want him to stop on the side of the road and kick her out of the car because she's getting on his nerves or anything (and unfortunately, she knows that's a serious possibility).

"You like this kind of music?" she asks him as he closes his eyes and moves to the beat.

"Yeah, they're alright. They're not too sappy or whatever, which is good for me right now. What music do you like anyway?"

She could launch into a long list of artists that she looks up to and enjoys listening to (in fact, she's got them written down and alphabetised). But instead, she bites down on her tongue. "I love Broadway music. It's classic, and always tells a tale. You can just imagine yourself on stage, living that moment, singing that song-"

Rachel has to stop herself from rambling, because it's so easy to do that with music.

But Puck's watching her appreciatively out of the corner of his eye, and he even nods a little. "Yeah, I get that."

She figures he doesn't mean he wants to get up and sing to Broadway whenever he hears it, but more that he gets into music like that too.

The wind tangles in her hair and hits her face. It's calming and nice. "So, where are we going to stay?"

"Dunno'. I haven't thought about that much. I thought it'd be nice just to be on the road, to feel the wind on your face and not really have to fucking _think _about anything. I mean, we can go somewhere if you really want to-"

She shakes her head and interrupts him. "No, driving like this sounds just fine to me. I don't want to think, for once."

He chuckles slightly.

It's a while before he finally turns off the highway and onto a little tucked-away drive that looks pretty empty and abandoned. There's a restaurant up the creek, hidden behind trees. She doesn't know where they are, but that doesn't bother her.

The restaurant is nice and cosy. It's warm inside, so Rachel slips off her jacket, because it's been pretty cold lately.

A waitress with a bee-hive bleached-blond hairdo sashays up to them and smiles, placing a hand on her hips. "Hey, darlin's, what can I get you?"

"Uh . . ." Puck scans the menu. "Lasagne, please. With fries and a coke."

"Right, sugar – and for you, honey?" the waitress asks Rachel in her southern drawl.

Rachel looks over them menu too. There's a whole lot of comfort food; things for people who have been travelling a long time and only eaten drive-through junk food. "I'll get a Greek salad, please, with French dressing too, thankyou. Oh, and an orange juice."

The waitress nods and struts off towards the kitchen.

Rachel never _ever_ pictured herself in this kind of situation – even with her psychic abilities. They seemed to be letting her down a little, quite frankly. She hadn't seen this coming at all, and she hadn't seen Finn going back to Quinn. The only thing she'd seen probably wouldn't even come true . . .

Because Rachel and Puck together was a ridiculous idea, right?

Right?

The salad comes and she has to admit it tastes absolutely _amazing_. He even lets her try some lasagne, but she figures that's because he's just happy he's not alone at school thinking about Quinn. She's pretty happy about that too.

They're offered dessert, but they're both stuffed from the mains so they refuse. It costs all up only about twenty bucks, and Puck pays for it happily.

"Are you sure? We kind of need enough money to last the whole summer," she says nervously.

Puck just shrugs. "Its fine, I'm loaded. Seriously, I was _going_ to spend all my pool cleaning money on fixing up this dump of a car, but then the b- Then everything got screwed up, so I just kept it. I don't want it, I'd rather spend it on this," he adds, seeing her expression. "Are you sure _you_ have enough money? Because I don't think I have enough for both of us."

"Trust me, Puck; I've been a very practical girl since I was young. That's how I was raised. All my money is – was, I mean – going towards a plane ticket to New York or Hollywood, but it'll be easy to save up that money again. I'm happy it's gone. I'm happy I'm here."

"Yeah, I guess I don't want to rip my ear drums out or anything," he replies, steering her out the door.

She knows that in his language, that goes along the lines of '_I'm happy you're here too, Rachel'_.

-

"What about the Angels?" Puck asks, glancing at Rachel for a second before looking back towards the road.

"The Angels?"

Puck looks at her in disbelief before taking a CD out of the glove box and putting it in the player. He bangs his head every so often to the beat and grins. "They're like, Australian or some shit."

_But late in the night when the lights are out  
She slips off her stockings and shoes  
She makes you her lover and lets you discover  
The smile she keeps, she keeps for you  
She keeps no secrets from you_

Puck looks kind of lost in the music. She notices him like this in Glee sometimes, but not always. Eventually, he turns the player off and puts on an old station she's never heard of.

"I found this station when I got sick of listening to all that new crap. Sometimes you get the best of the best songs _ever_, and sometimes you get songs so terrible you can't help but laugh and dance," he says quietly. Rachel raises an eyebrow before he coughs and mutters. "You know, it's usually pretty dumb though."

_Well, my sweet baby wears fishnet stockings  
When she starts rockin' there ain't no stoppin'  
__Singing wop bop a doo dop fishnet stockings__  
__Shoo wop a doo dop when she's rockin'_

Rachel laughs at the swing music. She could picture herself in one of those big tulle skirts that swing everywhere when you dance, on a dance floor and dancing like a sixties lunatic. Her cheeks would be read and her eyes bright and excited.

She'd have to get onto Mr Schuester about doing a sixties swing song.

That horrible 'I touch myself' song comes on and they really burst into laughter (_actual laughter)_. They feel so stupid, and Puck changes the station.

"That song should be _burned_. I really can't believe they ever released it," she sighs, shaking her head.

Puck pretends to gag, and it's nice to (almost) forget why they're both there.

At the end of the first day, she has a new appreciation for both bands like the Angels and little corner restaurants (because that salad was _good_).


	4. The Track Record

**Does anyone know when Glee season two picks up? 'Cause if it hasn't even aired in the U.S yet, I highly doubt it'll be getting to Australia anytime soon (it's all good, that's what youtube's for). **

They stop by an all-you-can-eat bar ("_Seriously, dude, all-you-can-eat is like the almighty fucking _god_ of good food_" "_Puck, did you just call me dude?")_ and Puck seems to make it his personal mission to eat at least a portion of _every single thing on the menu_.

"It's really not healthy to eat that much, Puck," Rachel informs him very seriously.

"Ah, wha' oo 'alkin' 'out? 'Iss shit is _grae!_"

"That is _so _repulsive. And to think women find you attractive," Rachel sighs, looking away. She knew _that _would bug him, at least.

"'Aye!" Puck grumbles, swallowing his mouthful. "Hey! Women find me _attractive_. You should see my track record, Berry. _All _girls think I'm hot, let's face it."

"I don't."

Puck's jaw just about hits the floor – before he starts laughing, that is. "Sure, Berry. Might I remind you that you weren't exactly screaming for mercy when I asked you if you wanted to make out."

"That was then, this is now. Besides, _Puckerman_, I don't find your 'track record' impressive whatsoever. It's rather sad, if you ask me. Surely you must want a proper girl friend, something steady . . ."

The look in his eyes is a burning kind of one, and she almost feels him firing holes right through her. "_Steady_? I'm going to have to deal with Quinn wanting me _and_ fucking Finn to be the daddy of _my fucking kid_ for a good eighteen years. I don't know how to deal with Quinn alone – throw in a damn _baby_ and my best friend and hell, Berry, I'm _done _with steady. Because my life is going to be one fucking _steady _rut from now on!"

There was a long silence while Rachel tried to find words that wouldn't get him angry. But what he'd said was sort of inevitable, and she couldn't find a way to console that. She doubted any one could.

"I'm sorry. I was just saying-"

"Forget it, Rachel."

"- and I didn't mean to upset you, because I just meant _relationship wise_-"

"Just drop it, okay?"

"- and I also know you're really upset, but you shouldn't take it out on other people-"

"Berry!"

"- but I have to digress, because _honestly_ I don't even think she really understand just how much you're going through, but I-"

"_Berry!_"

"- and it's quite- Hmm?"

"Would you just _shut up _already?"

"Oh. Okay."

Puck sighs and shoves a spoonful of Asian noodles down his throat. Rachel was lost as to how she could lift his mood - but she realises that she _knows_ Puck, and she _knows_ he doesn't mind a good boast every now and again. "So . . . Tell me more about this 'track record' of yours. There's no way you could have – how I believe you would put it – _banged _so many. I don't think all the girls could think you're hot."

Puck sniggers and shakes his head. "Yeah, well – how _you _would put it – I digress."

Rachel beams.

"Fire away, Crazy, and I'll _prove _that the girls come running. In packs, I might add."

Raising an eyebrow, Rachel sits back in her seat. "Okay, we'll start with the basics. The Cheerio squad. Just how many girls have '_come running_' from there?"

Puck snorts. "Too easy, Rachel Berry, way too easy. Let's see . . . Santana, obviously, and Brittany every now and again. There was Claire, that one time, and Susie Collins too. Chrissie Evans was, like, a regular. Quinn . . . Let's just say the whole cheerleading team – aside from the dudes, of course."

Rachel bites her lip. Okay, so, that's _kind of _more than what she expected.

"What about Cielle McLachlan?"

"Oh, good times . . . I could tell you stories about Cielle, Berry."

"Enough said, thank you. What about Lucy Walsh?"

"That crazy-ass bitch? _No thanks_. But her sister, on the other hand . . ."

Rachel decides its time to bring this stupid conversation to a halt. "Okay, let's stop talking about this."

She's feeling this incredibly enraging feeling in the pit of her stomach. It feels a little unfamiliar (but then again, she recognises it from somewhere). The feeling's name? It's on the tip of her tongue . . . She _knows _what it is . . .

"Whatever you say, Berry."

It washes over her. _Jealousy_.

She'd been jealous almost every day in her sophomore year, until sectionals when Finn had come crawling back in anger and angst (and then gone crawling right back to Quinn in regret and sorrow). But why she's jealous of the _cheerleading team _for getting action with _Noah Puckerman_? She has no idea.

Well, okay, she sort of _does_ have an idea, but hell will freeze over before she voices _that_ one.

Suddenly, the room feels a little hot and stuffy – almost like she can't breathe. Because Rachel's mulling things over in her head that just _shouldn't _be mulled over. In fact, they don't _need _to be mulled over because there's nothing to mull over about.

She's also confusing herself, now.

"You alright, Berry? You look- like- you're about to- explode- or sumfin'," Puck mutters between chewing garlic bread.

"No, no. I'm quite fine. Is it hot in here? Did they turn the heater up?"

Puck sniggers, pushing his bare plate away. "The thought of me in bed making you hot, Berry?"

That earns Puck a Rachel-Berry-hand shaped bruise on his shoulder. He's sort of on the right track (not about the getting hot thing, _no way_. There might be new, uncertain feelings about him, but thought of Noah Puckerman being a sleaze with half the school's population will _never_ get Rachel Berry horny).

(He disagrees, of course.)

"I think we should go," Rachel yawns. It's getting late, and if they don't check into a hotel room soon they'll be sleeping in the back of Puck's truck.

That doesn't sound appealing (not to her, at least).

The day blends into night, and it feels like yesterday, which will probably feel like tomorrow. Rachel settles into her one-night bed in her separate room, thinking over the stuff Puck said today. He might be an arse, but he doesn't _deserve _to be tied down like that. He doesn't _deserve_ the way Quinn treats him.

Rachel rolls over and sighs. Because _maybe_ she has feelings for him. _Maybe_ she cares about him.

_Nah_.


	5. The Scary Movie

It's a bout a week later, so they've officially been on the road for two weeks. Rachel has to admit this is the most exciting thing she's ever done (Puck's still debating it, because he's been in a lot of almost-caught-banging-a-girl-at-school situations).

Somewhere way out of Lima there's a county fair on. It's pretty old fashion, with rusty rides and flashing lights.

"We have to go in," she says, watching the rollercoaster spin upside down. "This is just the opportunity we've been waiting for."

Puck shrugs. "Are there clowns? Because man, those things are creepy shit. Did you see the movie _It_?"

Rachel shakes her head. "I've never been one for tacky horror movies. I like to sleep soundly, thank you, without my eyes open."

Puck shakes his head. "Remind me to hire it out for you. You don't know what you're missing out on. It's like living in this whole other world. It's like . . . Whaddya' call it?"

"Adrenaline rush?" Rachel offers.

"Yeah! It's like that, but better. It's like, you _feel_ like your going to die, but you're not. It's like reading a book, only this one makes you all shaky and whatever. But this movie _It,_ it's about a clown who eats children-"

Rachel slaps a hand over his mouth. "Thank you, Puck. I really don't need to know."

He shrugs in response.

They go into the carnival. They get hotdogs because they've only been eating healthy foods. She has to admit it feels nice to have something warm and salty in her stomach (even if it makes her feel sick afterwards). They stroll past the game alleyway, and Puck wins three various teddy bears.

"I used to take my sister to places like this all the time when I was a kid," he explains, tossing her the biggest one. "These games are second nature."

Rachel realises then that now she knows a lot more about Noah Puckerman than she ever though she would. It's nice, because they're sort of balancing along the friendship line by now.

They go on the rollercoaster, which he likes and has his hands in the air, and she sort of _doesn't_ like while clutching onto the safety bar for dear life. At the end, she can't walk straight because they looped about three times, so he helps her over to the Ferris wheel. The cool air high up helps her breathe, and he makes fun of her for being such a wuss.

He's only joking though, because they're sort-of-almost-maybe-kind-of friends.

Afterwards, Puck dares her to go in the haunted house with him.

"No. Absolutely _not_."

"Aw, come on Berry! Live a little! I'll save you from all those mutated, people-eating clowns."

She has no idea how that comforts her, but it just sort of does. The ride is dark and creepy, and for such a run down park it's pretty well done (in a terrifying way, that is). She feels skeleton fingers graze along her neck, and _that_ makes her scream like a mad person. Puck's laughing the whole way (until they reach a clown with his skin peeling off and blood dripping from his lips, then she feels him shudder and move _slightly_ closer to her).

When the ride ends, she sprints off and shakes a little near a booth. He grins at her, because at least _he _though it was fun.

"It wasn't real, Rachel."

"Y- Yes, I know. B- But I've never really experi- ahem, experienced horror movies or rides of just, no, just anything really like that. _I _thought it was terrifying, Mr isn't-scared-of-anything," she scowls.

Puck thinks for a little while before grabbing her hand and tugging her back to the car. "Come on, I have a surprise for you."

Why is it that she has a bad feeling about this?

He stops by a corner shop on the way and picks up some drinks and various items. He refuses to tell her what exactly else is in the bag, and tells her to shut up as they reach a new motel. This one is a lot nicer than the others – it looks modern and clean and just a little more expensive, but it'll be nice to have a bed with a _real _mattress.

Once they're settled, he takes her into his room and places her on the bed. She wonders how he got the TV and she got the room facing the road with all the cars zooming past – but he _is_ Puck, and she stops wondering. He just gets that kind of stuff; he's that type of person.

He turns on the television and puts a movie in the DVD player.

"Okay, here's my surprise," he says, thrusting a few cases in her direction. _Alien Vs Predator_, _Silence of the Lambs, It_.

"These are horror movies!" she squeals, jumping back off his mattress. "No way, Puck."

He locks the door and shrugs. "Too bad, Berry, it's time you lived," he says, pressing play and getting under the covers. Rachel scowls at him uncertainly from the other side of the room, so he pats the spot next to him and waits for her to sit down. She sighs and wriggles under the sheets as well (enough so that she can hide her eyes if it gets _super_ scary).

It's all nice and sunny and then _bam_, instant terror. Rachel squirms in her spot uncomfortably, trying to prepare herself for the gore.

Not even half-way through she's letting out ear-piercing screams.

"Would you shut up?!" he says, tearing his eyes away from the movie. "This is the good bit!"

"It's _terrifying_, Puck," she hisses, sliding further under the sheets until she's completely covered. She hears him sigh and then dive under covers as well. It's too dark to see, and the only way she knows that he's there is when the television screen lights up brightly again and she can see his shadow right next to her.

"It's just a movie," he whispers, and his breath is right on her neck.

"Uh . . . " is all she can murmur in response.

Her heart is pumping wildly and she feels like it's going to burst out of her chest any time soon now. All she can hear is a clown devouring a young, screaming girl and Puck breathing. But then the moment kind of seems to hit her in the face, and she can't do this, not now.

Rachel throws the covers off them and jumps off the bed, looking at Puck apologetically. He's still on the bed with a confused kind of expression. She unlocks the door behind her and steps out.

"Good night, Puck," she says quietly before shutting the door.

The only noise in the whole unit is the sound of the clown laughing.

* * *

**Is anyone auditioning over the net for the next season of Glee? 'Cause they're hosting auditions over myspace, _right now_. You have to be sixteen+ though, and eligible to work in the states. It's like having nails slowly driven into my body - to have my _favourite show audition over the net _and I can't even give it a go. **

**You probably already new this, but I thought I'd put it down anyway because I'm sad now. I know you guys probably don't read these things anyway. **


	6. The Rainy Day

Another week later, Puck and Rachel are pretending they didn't have an almost-moment and acting like the bickering, maybe-friends they were before. She doesn't know if she can handle a relationship with Puck, and he doesn't know if he can handle putting up with crap about being in a relationship with her.

Not that he's considering _being _in a relationship with her. He just thinks it'd be awesome to jump her or something like that. He's never had a _real_ relationship before, and he's not about to start with Rachel Berry.

It kind of sucks how he's always noticing her hot-as-_hell _legs, or her big brown eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or her lips while she eats or talks. He doesn't _want_ to notice these things, but he can't get her out his head (he puts it down to the fact that she's really the only girl he's been around lately, and things will get normal when they go back).

This makes him think about how in about four or five weeks they'll have to figure out where they are and head on home; because they have regionals and neither of them really want to miss it.

Going home sucks more than any sexual thoughts he's having on her (because, secretly, they really aren't that bad).

One day they're driving and it's the worst weather they've seen yet. The sky is full of lightening and crackling thunder that hurts their ears, while it's pouring down rain and small bits of hale.

The engine starts to cough and break down.

"Fuck!" he mutters angrily, slamming his foot down. Nothing happens. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Hmm?" Rachel mumbles, tearing her eyes away from the rain-drop-covered glass. "Why did we stop?"

Puck sighs, yanking his jacket and phone off the backseat. "Can you check the map? There's got to be a café or something around here. I can't get a signal on my phone. The car's broken down."

"Oh," she replies thoughtfully. Puck gives her a look. "The map! Right, sorry," she murmurs, flipping open the fifteen-by-fifteen inch booklet they'd picked up from a servo station a mile or so back. "Yes, there's a diner just up the road. We'll have to run, though."

"Sweet," Puck says, putting his hand on the door handle. "Are you ready?

Rachel follows his action nervously. "Yeah, sure. You don't have metal on you, do you? Because metal is an excellent conductor of lightening-"

"Just go, Rachel," Puck orders, rolling his eyes.

They sprint up the road (well, he just runs because she's not quite as fast) and it takes them less than two minutes to get inside. They're both dripping wet and soaked to their underwear (and really, he shouldn't be thinking about her underwear at a time like this).

Rachel shudders and slides into a booth in the corner of the diner. "S- So _cold_," she whispers, taking her drenched jacket off and draping it over the seat next to her. It's warm in here with the heater going and the food cooking.

"Hi!" a preppy voice says from behind them. Puck turns around to see a red-headed young waitress with electric blue eyes standing there. "I'm Becky; I'll be your waitress for today! Can I get you- Oh, wow, you guys are really wet."

Rachel is turning a little blue, so Puck talks instead. "We had to run up the road. Our car broke down."

"Oh, right, right," she mumbles, scribbling something down in her booklet. "Just call this number, yeah? His name is Joe, he's a mechanic."

"Thanks," Puck replies, sliding back out of the booth and taking Rachel's hand. He leads her into a unisex bathroom, turns on the hand-drying machine (he also wonders what they're called) and sits her under it.

He takes out his phone and thanks the Lord for people like Becky the waitress.

"Joe speaking," a rough voice answered.

Puck told him where the car was and where they would be, then hangs up. Rachel's cheeks are turning pinker by the minute, and he thinks that's a good sign, but presses the button one more time just to be safe.

"How are you feeling?" he asks sincerely. He then feels a little nauseous, because is he _seriously_ getting worried over Rachel fucking Berry?

"Better," she says, looking up at him. "Thank you so much. My _bones_ felt like ice, and it really hurt."

"Yeah, whatever," Puck replies, because he's still not totally used to the apologies and thank you's and intimate moments.

He takes her back out to get a burger. They eat in silence because she's still sort of cold. When she's done, though, he takes her hand in his and rubs his thumbs over the back of them soothingly (only to warm her up, of course).

Suddenly, Rachel looks up over his shoulder and grins. "Are you up for a little singing, Puckerman?"

Well, that's . . . new.

Puck turns around to see a karaoke machine and has to laugh as well. It had felt like a long time since he'd really _sung_, and if he gets lucky he might even be able to give her a run for her money. He's been practising (but he won't tell her that).

"You go first," he says, because he knows she would have volunteered anyway. He figures there isn't any Broadway on the track list from the hand on her hip and the defeated expression on her face. But then she brightens up and flips back through the tracks, picks one out and has that twinkle in her eye that almost makes him think she's up to something.

But Rachel isn't really all that sneaky (she can be cunning, though, remember Sandy?).

"_Amanda the actress waits at the station__  
__she's drifting with nothing to do__  
__with dilettante steps she's quick to accept__  
__the weather and times turning screw_."

Puck laughs at the expression on Rachel's face, because the song doesn't suit her at all. Her vocals sound a little off because she's used to a different beat, but she's smiling and laughing and really having fun.

"_That late in the night when the lights are all out__  
__then she slips off her stockings and shoes__  
__she makes you her lover and lets you discover__  
__the smiles she keeps, she keeps for you__  
__She keeps no, she keeps no__  
__she keeps no secrets from you." _

Rachel takes one last deep breath and bounds off the stage, smiling widely at Puck. He claps and nods his head as she sits down across from him.

"My turn," he says with a waggle of his eyebrows. Rachel just bites her lip.

Puck chooses his song and plays air guitar for the opening, banging his head to the beat and smirking.

"_It was 1989, my thoughts were short my hair was long__  
__Caught somewhere between a boy and man__  
__She was seventeen and she was far from in-between__  
__It was summertime in Northern Michigan_."

Rachel smiles at him approvingly from the corner of the room. He made the perfect song choice, he really did.

"_And we were trying different things__  
__We were smoking funny things__  
__Making love out by the lake to our favourite song__  
__Sipping whiskey out the bottle, not thinking 'bout tomorrow__  
__Singing Sweet home Alabama all summer long__  
__Singing Sweet home Alabama all summer lon_g."

Puck looked at Rachel and it was kind of an electric moment. The whole diner either had their eyes on Rachel or Puck, but it felt like it was just them.

How cheesy is that?

"_Singing sweet home Alabama, all summer long_," Puck finished, doing a quick, smooth spin and joining Rachel. "I win."

"You do not!" she cried indignantly.

"How about a tie breaker then?" Puck offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Just don't cry when you lose that too," she says, flouncing off towards the stage. He always knew she was damn competitive, but _seriously_.

She's already picked out a song. She claims she's never heard of it (he hasn't either) but she's probably lying just to get a heads up. But then he realises she wouldn't, because she might be competitive, but she's _fair_.

He likes that about her.

The music is low and sweet and full of harmonicas and acoustic guitars. Puck reads over the lyrics and starts it off.

"_Baby, I've been a fool a long time  
But it's always been in my way  
And I don't know or understand it now  
So darlin', summer's almost gone  
And I've been cold and along my way  
Every day  
I'm calling out in overload_."

Rachel watches him out of the corner of her eye and smiles a little, because this is a sweet song and she chose it at random.

She sings, "_Just to save you for it's the only time we know  
Yesterday is so far and I can only begin to say_."

"_I've been winging it here  
But time's just a killing my day  
Year for to touch your ways  
Now any time you feel it inside  
Don't be lonely in your sleep  
Dream me there 'cause it will always keep us bound_ _."_

It's not until he's sung that verse until the song sort of hits him. He was probably on the verge of turning mental with all the fucked up baby drama – and even before that he was screwing his life up with all those girls and the booze and the weed.

Then they got out of there, and he cleared his head and now it's all just _Rachel_.

"_Feel it now  
Don't worry what's going down  
'Cause everything we ever had is always here."_

She looks at him, and she's feeling a little light-head (in a good way, the same way Finn made her feel, but kind of more . . . _adventurous_).

They finish the song and the whole room claps like they're in some kind of musical movie.

It's times like these Puck knows why he brought Rachel along with him, and it's times like these Rachel knows why she went along with it.

"I reckon we should go," he tells her.

Rachel looks like he's just woken her up. "O- Oh, yes, sure."

Becky winks at them as they walk out the door and says, "Buh bye, love birds."

They laugh even though they're both mulling that over in their heard (they sort of like it, but there's no way in hell he's going to admit it). The rain _finally_ dries up for a good ten minutes so they can get to the car, and Joe the mechanic is stationed under Puck's truck, just about done.

Joe's pretty cool – only just in his twenties. He winks at Rachel as he gets in his own truck. Puck doesn't know _why _that bothers him, but it does.

"I think we both won," she says quietly as he starts the car.

* * *

**Songs in this chapter :**

**The Angels -No Secrets  
Kid Rock - All Summer Long  
Pete Murray - Summer At Eureka**

**And I do have to say, I like this chapter (a lot). **


	7. The Back of His Car

Rachel decides its time for another clothes-washing run (the seventh, if she's correct) so she heads of to the local public laundry with two baskets of clothing.

Its kind of nice to be able to think without Puck there, and its kind of nice for him to be able to just lounge around and not think or worry about her (he doesn't mind worrying or thinking about her, it's just a nice change).

After about half an hour though, he gets bored and decides to borrow her CDs. He's never been one for Broadway, much, but he gets what she means when she says she can just picture herself up on stage.

Listening to _her_ music like some stalker gets him thinking on how this even became considerable. A while ago, he would've rather stabbed needles into his eyes than bring along _Rachel Berry _for a summer road trip.

The start of their I-can-stand-to-be-in-the-same-room-as-you relationship kind of went like this:

She was crying in the car park one day (because even performers drop the façade every once and a while) and he noticed her on his way out of school. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and straightened up, as if to keep whatever dignity she had. Puck snorted and told her to get the hell in his truck or he might just run over her.

She couldn't be sure whether he was joking, because he seemed in a particularly bad mood.

"Suck it up for a second, Berry; we're going to get some nachos."

Seeing his expression, she swallows her retort.

So he buys her some nachos and they sit in a dingy little Mexican place, watching little Mexican men dance lamely. She doesn't speak, because she can still feel the slushy setting in her hair. He doesn't speak either, because he's just had (_another_) fight with Quinn over her dumbass who's-the-baby-daddy drama.

She guesses it's time to go, though, when he jumps up and steals a Mexican midget's sombrero.

It leads to a very small foreign man screaming at the two of them as they race out the door.

Yeah, that's where it all started.

She comes back, armed with clean clothes, and he's kind of grateful. For some sick, twisted reason, it's become necessary for her to be around for him to be able to have a good time.

Man that sucks.

-

They drive along a beach one afternoon and she begs him to pull over. He's glad she did, because he's never liked being at the beach more. They sit along the waters edge, and just talk for a while.

"You really aren't such a Neanderthal, Puck."

He _thinks_ it's a compliment. "Yeah, you aren't that annoying anymore either."

She flicks some sand at him while his mouth is open, and it tastes like salt and fish and dirt all in one. He raises an eyebrow – did she _dare_ just challenge him to a sand fight?

He throws a fistful at her, causing her to squeal, throw her shoes off and run in the other direction. Before he really knows what he's doing, Puck sprints after her, because _no one_ messes with him (not even Rachel Berry). He tackles her to the ground and sprinkles sand over her face, causing her to choke and splutter from both laughing and the sand.

"Stop! _Please_ get off me!" she pleads, panting.

The moment slows down a little again and he's on top of her, breathing heavily. Her chest heaves and the friction between their bodies is too much. She rolls out from underneath him, straightening her dress and looking away.

Is it wrong that he wishes she hadn't moved?

They order fish and chips and sit in the back of his truck, looking up at the sky.

"I really don't want to go back to another motel," she sighs, stretching. "I wish we could stay here."

"Yeah, I know what- I know what you mean," Puck says, stifling a yawn. The little light flicks inside his head as he jumps off his car and opens the back door, pulling out some blankets. "Why don't we just stay, then?"

She gives him an unsure look. "I don't know . . ."

"Come on, Rach'! This is perfect! We can, like, stay out here under the stars and all that shit. It'll be awesome!"

She's still thinking over the fact that he called her _Rach'_.

He sits back on the back of his car and lies down with his head on his bag. "It's pretty comfy, you know, and you can see all the stars."

"Oh," Rachel says thoughtfully. "But what if we get attacked in the middle of the night?"

Puck scoffs. "By _what_? Truck-sized flies? Or how about walking dolphins?"

She frowns at him and lies down on the back of his truck. It is pretty nice with the breeze in her hair and the sky right above her like an open book.

"That one is called Pegasus, you know," she says matter-of-factly.

He didn't know that, actually. "Now _this _is camping – and we aren't in hotels anymore, are you happy yet?"

She sighs, because he thinks she's difficult and demanding (ok, _maybe_ she is a little). "I wasn't ever not happy. The whole summer so far, I've been happy. I'm happy here, with you."

She's really glad he's looking the other way, because that was sort of embarrassing. He doesn't say anything in reply.

They fall asleep debating about music again. Somehow, his arm ends up draped over her stomach and she ends up a lot closer than she was when they first lied down. The best thing?

Neither of them thought about Quinn or Finn or Rosie Fabray all day, which was the whole point.

* * *

**A/N: Aw (:**


	8. The Late Night Swim

"_Berry_! Hey, come on! Wakey, wakey, Rachel!"

Rachel groans, shifting in her uncomfortable position. It was late at night and they had been driving back from an old drive-in theatre (she'd always _adored_ them in the movies). It was a hot day, and a long drive back to their spot at the beach she was so fond of. So as to why Puck had stopped driving so soon after leaving, she didn't know.

Grumbling about the appropriate amounts of sleep their age group has been recommended by scientists, Rachel sits up and rubs her eyes. Puck's parked his truck in an empty car park. "_What, Noah_?" she hisses angrily, because she should _so _be getting her needed eight-to-ten hours of sleep right now.

"Let's go," he says as he climbs out his door. When she refuses to move, he has to literally _drag _her out of the car by taking her tiny wrists and pulling until she stumbles and falls out (he catches her, of course). "_Let's go_," he says again, to emphasize that she can't argue with him on this one.

"What are we even _doing _here, Puck?"

"You'll see."

That was just about as mysterious as Noah Puckerman ever got.

She follows him silently, fuming all the way. He places on foot on a wire fence and hoists himself over it. She stares at him in disbelief. He is _so _breaking the law - trespassing on property when it's _clearly _closed, and she'll probably get arrested for this and then their summer will be _all over_. She opens her mouth to share this with him (i.e. - lecture him loudly) before he interrupts.

"Come on, take my hand."

"_No. Way._"

"Rachel, seriously, just take my hand and I'll help you over. I know you're probably freaked out about climbing a fence twice your size, but-"

"I'm not _scared_!" Rachel snaps huffily. "I just don't believe trespassing is an activity I'd particularly like to participate in, as we could get _arrested_, Noah! Then I'll have to call my fathers, and I'll be grounded for the rest of my life. I'm not kidding you, they fully believe in boarding schools – very _secure _boarding is ridiculous. Just climb back over, we'll get in the car, and drive back to the beach."

"No."

"_No? _Noah, this is absolutely absurd. Surely-"

Puck exhales impatiently. "Look, we haven't got a lot of time to kill, okay? So hightail your little ass over here, and we'll have fun."

Puck extends his arm over again. Rachel eyes him, temptation overwhelming her. She reaches out and clasps his hand (ignoring the completely unnecessary and meaningless shiver that runs down her spine), and he gently helps her up over the ledge. She lands with a dull _thud _and a small yelp, while he slaps a hand over her mouth.

"I don't think they would've tightened security much, they're too cheap. But still, Rachel, keep it on the down low. We're being _sneaky_."

She really doesn't like the sound of that.

Puck tosses her a sports bag, full of clothes. She recognises some of hers, and some of his – including her bathing suit. She raises an eyebrow at him incredulously. "And why on Earth would I need this?"

Puck just grins and tugs her up some rackety wooden stairs nearby. Flicking a switch and turning the lights on, Rachel _thinks _she's in an office. There's a desk, a fridge, and then a control panel of switches and knobs on the far side of the room.

"Puck-"

"Just wait, just wait!"

So she waits. He sits down in a chair in front of the panel and studies it for a good five minutes. It's the most she's ever seen him think (except when he's having a mental break down over his baby and his 'baby momma', but Rachel doesn't really want to think about that now). Finally, he flicks a green switch and sits back as distant lights flicker on, like he's some magical god.

"What-"

"Look," he says, nodding into the distance.

She expects to see something magnificent or wonderful or breath-taking. She's lost for words, at least.

There's a row of twirling, looping slides out in the darkness. Pools of water sparkle below them under the golden lights. Reflections of the clouds and the moon glimmer on just about every square metre of land, and Rachel is honestly lost for words.

It doesn't last long, of course. "Where the _heck_ are we, Noah Puckerman?"

Puck grins. "It's a water park! Crap security at night and the owner _always_ forgets to lock the doors."

"How- How did you discover this place?"

Puck looks up at her, and she knows he's pleading with her to drop the subject. She won't give up though, not at all.

"Finn."

She doesn't press the subject; neither of them wants to speak about the happy little family back in Lima. Instead, she takes the bag from his hands and heads for the door with the little stick figure in a dress across the room.

Feeling extremely violated and exposed, Rachel storms back out in her emerald bikini – the one she'd loved until now (had it always been so . . . _Small?)_ She's curious as to what he's got going on here, so she ignores his sly little wolf-whistle and thrusts the bag in his direction.

"Just hurry up, Puckerman. I have a bad feeling about whatever plan you're devising."

He returns in swimming trunks and a sexy grin. She rolls her eyes (_trying to fool herself_, he thinks). Puck flicks another switch, and she can hear a distant rushing of water. Dropping the bag, he leads her down stairs. The water park looks amazing at night, and totally abandoned.

He somersaults into the water impressively. He emerges only seconds later, clearly waiting for her to hurry up. She dives in after him, and she didn't remember chlorine feeling this _good_. It immediately brings down her body temperature a good couple of degrees and leaves her sighing as she floats on the water.

They go on every single ride, even the kiddie ones that wouldn't thrill you if they slid you off a cliff. But she's having so much fun it hurts to smile, and he knows it.

"Come on," he coaxes at the top of a tower. The _Sea Viper_, swooping around until practically going vertical for a good hundred meters (she might be exaggerating, she can't tell).

"_No way_," she says shakily, peering down at the distant water.

He looks like he's about to fight, before giving a slight, cunning smile and shrugging. "Fine, I'll go," he says, sitting down at the edge. "You just walk back down. I'll meet you there."

"O- Okay," she mumbles in response, taking a step back, and then another one forwards. Before she can retreat, though, Puck has her by the waist. He pulls her around to sit in his lap, and hugs her to his chest as she squirms.

"_Let go of me!" _she squeals, pointing to the safety caution sign. "Look! One person at a time, Puck! This is unsafe and-"

He grins as he pushes back on the bar and takes off. She's calm for a minute as they loop slowly, before she's practically flying. She can't feel the water or the safe, solid slide beneath her anymore and Rachel is _freaking out_.

He's laughing while she's screaming. It would bother her, if she didn't feel like her life was going to end _right now_.

They crash into the water at the bottom of the slide, and she splutters and gasps for air while he watches her, amused. "_Clearly, _you think this is absolutely hilarious. But next time, when you're thrown onto a ride which _strictly _goes against the safety rules, and you didn't expect it all, we'll see if you're chortling away like some idiot!"

"Rachel, please shut up and tell me it was fun."

She pauses before bitterly muttering, "It was fun."

There's another silence before his hands are on her hips. They're waist-deep in water, alone in an amusement park. Her heart flutters and flutters until she's pretty sure it's gone. His breath is on her neck, as hot as the summer breeze had been all day, and she _knows _something is about to happen.

Lights start flashing, in pretty arrays of blues and reds. "_Please come out with your hands up. City Council police, what you do or do not do _will _result with consequences." _

She just wasn't expecting that.

* * *

**A/N: Hehe. Looks like trouble, eh? **

**Even though I can't audition for glee, I'm actually auditioning online for another TV show here in AUS that wants teenagers. Wish me luck, fabulous readers (; **

**Thanks for all your support, reviews, alerts and favourites. You're the best (: **


	9. The Cop Station

"YOU GOT ME _ARRESTED_?" she shrieks, angrily, crossing her arms. Thank goodness the officer had enough heart to give her a towel; she might've died out of embarrassment being arrested in her _bikini_.

"Berry, lower your voice before you wake up an ex-convict who decides to return back to his criminal ways and makes _us _his next target."

That shuts her up.

She's frowning, and yelling at him – that bit isn't strange. But the part about Rachel Berry being behind bars is so strange this might just be a dream (or her nightmare). Actually, it only gets weirder, because she's stuck behinds bars _with _Puck (it's the Puck-and-Rachel bit that's weird, not the whole Puck-being-behind-bars thing, because that's _old news_).

So anyway, this whole situation is so unbelievably strange and Rachel feels like she might have to pull her own hair out soon. The fact that they were _totally _about to have another moment escapes her, and all she can feel is fiery, burning wrath that _needs _to be taken out on the boy in front of her.

"You're such an idiot. I cannot _believe _you got me arrested! You've ruined the summer, Noah, _ruined it. _I hope you're satisfied. Are you satisfied, Noah? Because I'm certainly not. This will go on my record, and I'll _never_ get a part in _any _musical or television slash movie production. No body wants a criminal for a lead, Noah! They want talent, and if this tarnishes my reputation, then so God help me I might just have to murder you!"

He didn't catch some of that (i.e. most of that), but he did catch the murder bit, and Rachel Berry usually doesn't do the whole violence thing unless she's _really _mad. So right now, she's scaring him.

_A lot_.

He crosses his arms with a bored expression and waits for her to _shut up_, because he was serious about that ex-convict thing. If a crazy-ass senior can threaten to come after him, than a crazy-ass locked up in prison sure can (he's not afraid of Adam Lockyards, though, dude's a phony).

"Are you even _listening _to me, Noah?"

"Nope."

He can tell he's screwed just by the expression on her face.

"Ma'am?" says a gruff voice, and Rachel whirls.

"Oh, yes, Officer Kingsley?"

"We'd appreciate it if you'd quieten down while we work. Especially as it's very late, and most of the– Er . . . The other people around here are trying to get some shuteye, so we would be gracious if you'd just stop talking."

Puck sniggers.

"Sure, Officer," she mumbles quietly, glowering at Puck. "But, when will we get out of here?"

Kingsley sighs and combs a hand through his moustache. "Well, you haven't violated too many terms seriously. Just a couple of hooligans trespassing on an old water park doesn't exactly count as felony. But still, I'm going to need your names. We'll discuss the matter, but it'll probably go on your file."

Rachel looks helplessly at Puck, who jumps up immediately. _Puck to the rescue, _he thinks sarcastically, because it makes him feel sick that he _wants _to help Rachel Berry when she pulls that face. "My name . . . My name is, er . . ."

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel whispers, looking blankly at the policeman. She doesn't miss a heartbeat. Puck stares at her, wide-eyed.

"I don't suppose you have any ID on you, ma'am?"

She raises an eyebrow and places a hand on her hip, her eyes swooping over the little clothing she was wearing. "Oh yes, I just keep my wallet between my breasts in case of a situation like this."

Puck has to shove his fist in his mouth to stop laughing. Firstly because that was _fucking hilarious_, and also because that was so Quinn-like all she needed was blond hair and a pom-pom and Rachel could be the almighty bitch herself.

"And you, son?" Kingsley asks, glaring at Rachel.

"Finn Hudson, Mister Policeman sir."

He's pretty sure Kingsley can pick up on the sarcasm in his voice. The officer sighs, unlocking the jail cell and letting them out. He tosses their bag at Puck. "Picked this up when we closed the park back down. Just don't get in any more trouble, okay? I know what it's like to be a teenager. Riff raff and violence anywhere, you just don't know where to turn. But you got to struggle to do the right thing; to be the right person. With a little perseverance, Finn, you might grow up to a model citizen, like me." He gestures to his badge. "Especially with such a nice young lady like Quinn here. You can be good kids, you know. I trust you with that."

Puck honestly cannot _breathe_ he's trying to hold in the laughter. He turns away and lets Rachel, the apparent queen of poker face, deal with the _model citizen. _"Yes, sir. Thankyou so much. It really is a struggle these days, you know. We were just so . . . So . . . _So compelled_ to be cool. It's such a sad thing, what our society has come to, I think you'd agree."

Kingsley nods in agreement with a small smile. "Oh, alright, enjoy the rest of your _crime-free_ night, Mr Hudson and Ms Fabray."

"Thankyou sir!" she says firmly before dragging Puck out the door and collapsing into a fit of laughter. Puck joins her. He doesn't know what's funnier – the lame speech, or the fact that someone said a sentence with both Quinn's name and 'nice young lady' in it.

Rachel sighs, wiping her eyes and clutching onto the side of the truck for support.

"That was brilliant, Rachel. The idiot thought you were, like, a fucking angel or something. He might've taken you under his crime-fighting wings if we hadn't hightailed out of there."

Rachel begins to smile, before stopping and looking him straight in the eye. "But _seriously. _You got me arrested, Noah Puckerman! _Arrested! _I'm a horrible example. That goes against _all _of my values and beliefs!"

Puck rolls his eyes before slamming the car door shut.

* * *

**A/N: Ahh, don't hate me Quinn lovers. She's my favourite character (: I just thought that was how Puck would think. **


	10. The Party

Rachel wakes up to seagulls and salty air. Stretching and yawning and throwing Puck's arm off her, she takes in the surroundings. The beach is every bit as beautiful as it was last night – wide, open, pristine and breath-taking.

Puck wakes up with a yawn. He looks as if he hasn't quite registered where he is yet, like he's lost. "Rachel?"

Rachel nods, burrowing through her bag to find some fresh clothes. The sun is high in the sky, and its hot today. In fact, it's worse – it's that starting-to-sweat-just-standing-in-the-sun kind of temperature.

"What do you reckon they're doing?" he asks casually, rubbing his eyes (she finds him adorable right now, for some reason best left unexamined). She turns around to see a few boys and girls their age blowing up balloons and hanging up a banner from the jetty.

Rachel shrugs. "I really don't know."

As she's heading towards the toilets, someone taps her shoulder. Rachel whirls to find a tall, dark-haired boy smiling sweetly at her. "Hey, you, are you coming tonight?"

She's a little startled by his outright manner. "What's happening tonight?"

The boy points towards the other teenagers. "Beach party, of course. You should so come; we're all just hanging around."

Rachel looks back towards the truck, where Puck was packing up the blankets. She still felt a little hazy, like she couldn't believe she'd really just slept in a boy's truck. But then again, she was still finding it hard to wrap her head around the fact that she was here at all. She hadn't been in Lima for a while, now, and it was so _new_.

"Is it okay if I bring a friend? Because-"

"Yeah, sure," the boy interrupts. He winks as he says, "I'll see you tonight then."

"Certainly," Rachel replies hesitantly.

While she's getting changed, it hits her. That boy had been hitting on her (was that the right term? He definitely wasn't 'coming onto her'. Maybe he was just flirting – or was that the same as hitting on? She wasn't very good at this).

"I've been invited to a party," she says when she returns. Puck nods.

"Yeah, some hot chick just invited me too."

That bothers her, but she does her best to push it away.

-

Rachel changes into her favourite white, summery dress that she was sort of saving for an occasion like this and prepares herself for the hell she's going to go through tonight. She's never been much of a social person, and this party would require talking to a lot of people without annoying them.

Of course, she only knew she was annoying because Kurt Hummel told her so every day (_every _single_ damn day_) of her life. He doesn't seem like a great judge of character, though, with _his_ attitude.

Rachel joins Puck, and he looks her up and down. He doesn't try to hide it (he even wolf-whistles under his breath) and it makes her heart drop (don't ask her why, that's too complicated). He looks just as sexy as always in a button-up blue shirt and jeans, and he has that kind of feel to him that just pulls her closer.

-

He loves the way she looks tonight.

But just that –_ just_ the way she _looks. _That's it, that's all. That's all it will ever be.

-

The party is just hordes of teenagers crammed together, drinking, smoking and bopping to the music because there isn't enough room. Rachel tightens her grip on Puck's arm when a sloppy, fumbling boy walks past her with a grin.

Puck orders two vodka bottles. "Thank the good Lord for alcohol," he says appreciatively.

"Amen, brother," a random guy says as he walks past, fist-punching Puck.

It's just like in the movies, so she feels a little prepared. There's a big bonfire which reflects off the water magnificently, and the sky is so open and wide it looks like it'll never end. Rachel stays by his side as she nurses the bottle (she has to bite her tongue from going into a long, detailed speech about the affects of underage drinking and scolding him on his disappointing behaviour).

"Trust me, Rachel, it makes you feel good. It's like seeing the world in a whole new perspective – and if you get drunk enough, you might just forget all the other shit."

That sounds kind of appealing to her right now, what with the whole party thing, so she downs her bottle like Puck does and he orders another round.

A blond girl grins up against Puck, which Rachel finds _extremely _rude and disgusting_. _Puck pushes the girl away with a wave of his arm, and just like that, _bam_ and the girl is gone. He looks down and gives her a warm smile, which she returns gingerly. Maybe she should just ask to go home . . .

The second she turns around though, he disappears. But the alcohol is sort of setting in now, and she forgets about that. Because she can _sing_, damn it, and she can _dance_. This was a party, so why should she be worrying right now?

The same boy who invited her comes up to her and puts his hands on her hips, which makes her feel warm in a strange way. So they kind of sway until she gets sick of it and starts _really_ dancing. She feels a little slutty, and everyone's watching her.

Well, almost everyone. Puck's still nowhere in sight.

But she just did a high kick, and all the surrounding people are clapping and _oh_ing. Maybe they can't see straight, but they love her. They love her moves, her smile, her voice . . .

The night drags on and she drinks a little more until her head starts spinning and she can't walk straight. But then again, that's pretty funny, so she starts giggling.

"Hey, baby," a smooth voice says in her ear. She twirls around to face a guy in his mid-twenties. His hands are suddenly all over her, and she _doesn't _like that. So Rachel pushes mystery sleaze off her and stumbles away.

She sees the bathroom and trips her way over there, because she's feeling light-headed and sick to the gut. Wasn't this supposed to happen the morning after? Or was that the night before? Or- Or-

It's a mess, alright.

She feels a lot better coming out of the stall though, and a lot more clear-headed than she was before. Rachel splashes her face and runs a hand through her hair. She's sick of this and just wants to go lay down in some peaceful spot, preferably with Puck.

One problem: Puck's gone AWOL.

Rachel bounds out of the ladies room, determined to find said missing boy and go home (wherever home is for tonight). She can hear someone vomiting in the bush nearby, and two people making out (in a display that sounds like it really shouldn't be done in public).

Turning around, Rachel sees the couple. Her heart does that dropping thing again, and then it's gone. _Way_ gone, like fallen out of her chest gone. She can't help that he's rubbed off on her, and she can't help that the first thing to do is yell and scream profanities.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're _fucking_ doing, Noah Puckerman?"

* * *

A/N: I might just be having the worst day of my life (and it's only, like, 11:20), and this may result in the pulling out of my hair or me having a midlife crisis at my tender age. So to me, this chapter is absolutely HORRIBLE (everything is). But I uploaded anyway, because I like the next chapter better, and you can't have the next chapter without having this chapter and blah blah blabbity blah.

I sound like a preschooler. I even have my arms crossed right now and a frown on my face.


	11. The Fight

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're _fucking_ doing, Noah Puckerman?"

_Angry_.

That's how she feels at first. She feels so unbelievably betrayed and used and _horrified _at the sight before her eyes that she'd _really _like to hit something. But she's never been a violent person before, so instead she just stands there.

_Hurt_.

She feels hurt. Here she was all this time, thinking they had something, whatever 'something' was, and it meant nothing to him. A good seven weeks when she thought they were becoming friends (or more) and now . . .

_Stupid. _

Because, quite frankly, they'd only ever had almost-moments. Now, it was probably all they'd ever be. Summer's almost gone, now, and it's not like a relationship can spring out of _nowhere_. Besides, she's just caught him making out with a girl he probably doesn't even know, so his feelings and intentions are pretty damn clear. He never saw her like that. She'll always be _Rachel Berry: annoying, crazy, psycho freak_.

Once the words are out of her mouth, she wonders why she said them. She has no right to care about what he does. None _whatsoever_.

So why is this so damn _painful_?

"Rachel?" Puck asks, blinking and rubbing his eyes. She takes a deep breath and hopes he says something like "_but she attacked my face first"._

He doesn't, though.

"I was looking for you-"

Rachel snorts, noticing Puck's previous almost-fuck-buddy sliding away from the situation awkwardly. "It sure doesn't _look _like you were looking for me. In fact, I would bet that I haven't been on your mind for quite some time. You looked pretty busy-"

"No!" Puck interrupts, closing the gap between them. "I really was . . . I _know _I was. Then, er- I don't really remember . . . I think it just sort of _happened_. I was worrying about you, and then . . . And then . . ."

"Whatever," Rachel says, slapping her hand over his mouth. "I don't care, Puck. I just got _groped_ by some _creep _and then I _threw up _in the bathroom. And to make things all _that much better_, I come out to find you, practically eating some girl I bet you don't even know!"

"Berry, I don't even get why you care. Every time we get close _at all _you just walk away or pretend it never- Wait, wait, wait. _Groped? _ Some guy had their hands all over you? And you threw up? Holy fuck, Berry, we've only been here an hour, how many drinks did you have?"

"We've been here _a lot_ longer than an hour, Puck," she corrects him bitterly. "Besides, I was drinking because I had no idea where you had run off to, and I had nothing else to do. Could you _be _any stupider? You don't just _leave _a girl like me at a party like that-"

"You're blaming the fact that you got drunk off you arse on _me_?" Puck asked in disbelief. "No one forced you to drink, Berry! No one tipped the bottle down your throat and threatened you! _You _made that choice, so don't blame that shit on _me. _And what do you mean, _'a girl like you'_?"

"A vulnerable girl. I've never been to a party like this, Puck, I was pretty sure you knew that-"

"What do I look like, a mind reader?"

"You _know me_! You _know _I don't do this kind of thing! Friends know each other, and I thought . . ."

Puck narrowed his eyes. "What? What did you think, Rachel?"

"_I thought we were friends!_"

There was a long, painful silence while he took in what she'd said. Puck hadn't thought about what they were at all, really. This whole summer she'd just _been _there – it hadn't mattered what she was. She was a rock, a guide, a friend . . . He could stretch it as far as a best friend as well, maybe. Then there were other moments when Rachel Berry had been more (a lot more) than a friend. Moments that they'd both gone through; moments and thoughts and shivers and silences that hadn't seemed like much, but had meant everything. There were moments when he _wanted _her, and it wasn't even out of revenge he'd felt he needed to get on Quinn or Finn.

But he didn't want to tell her that. He didn't want to go through any serious shit, because the baby momma gave him enough of that.

"Yeah, well, I guess you thought wrong. You're only here with me because we're both angry at Quinn and Finn and _my _kid. You're only here because I was sick of being alone."

Rachel's breath caught in her throat; she really hadn't wanted to hear that. She had really believed that this was _something _(no matter what that 'something' was).

He watches her eyes gleam with tears and her hands slowly tremble and her brow furrow. She straightens up and takes a deep breath, even though she's still shaking and her eyes are still glassy.

"I think- I think it's time I went back to Lima," she says stiffly and firmly (she's trying to coax herself into it too, but he doesn't know that).

"Rachel . . ."

"_No, _Puck. I'll just get my phone and call my Daddy to pick me up. Actually, I'll call a cab, and we can pretend this never happened. I'll tell him Finn broke his arm or something, and we had to bring the camp to an end. We can just pretend this never happened," Rachel repeats in that same blank, rigid tone. She gulps and slowly turns away.

Puck groans in frustration and strides back to her, grabbing her shoulder. "Rachel-"

"_Don't touch me! _I'm going home. Thank you for nothing."

"No, Rachel, I'm sorry-"

"Don't lie to me! You aren't sorry, Puck. You've made it pretty clear, and I don't want _anything _to do with you again-"

"Rachel."

"- to get away from McKinley, but it was all a mistake-"

"Rachel."

"- say whatever you like, because I'm just _sick _of the games, Noah-"

"Rachel."

"- and maybe if I go back, things will be different. I mean, Finn's taken and _clearly _you don't have any feelings, but still-"

"Rachel."

"- so this is going to hurt a lot, because for a while there I really had feelings for you, but I suppose now-"

"Rachel."

"- whatever you feel is fine, but you really needn't have said it like that. I get that you're probably still angry-"

"_Rachel_."

"- I'm not sorry, not one bit. I hope you are though, because this summer was-"

"_Rachel!_"

"- and I'm not going to cry, because this was never anything anyway-"

In a second flat, he's got her pinned against the bathroom wall. She would have never shut up otherwise, so he leans down and kisses her. She stops talking at least, but their breathing is ragged and rough, and she's staring up at him like she really can't believe he just did that. Pulling back slightly, Puck leaves his arms on either side of her but gives her some room to breathe.

There's a long silence while her mouth hangs open slightly and she tries to find the right words. But she just can't find anyway to tell him how she feels.

She settles for telling him what she wants. "I- You- Can you do that again?"

* * *

A/N: To those who care, my day got a lot worse. And then better. So I'm taking up Noelle86's advice and updating, just to feel a little more better.

Tell me what ya think. You guys are the best. (:


	12. The Game of Dr Phil

So, they're a couple now.

Hoorah for them. He feels like such a _girl_.

She holds his hand sometimes and girls who would usually check him out just _don't _anymore. She's everywhere, Rachel. That girl is like a ninja or something. (He decided he was going to be a ninja when he was four, and stuck with that until he was fourteen. He still loves the idea.)

But he likes holding her hand – how hers is so small in his. He likes the way her eyes shine when she's talking about something important (well, mostly it's only important to _her). _He likes how close she lies to him when they go to bed every night. He likes her body against his (even if she refuses to do it with him, but it's still nice).

He wonders if he's turning gay.

But then Rachel walks around in her shortest skirt and no, he's pretty damn sure he isn't gay.

Sometimes they fight. It goes like this.

She usually squeals, "You are _so _insensitive!"

He rolls his eyes. "You know me. I have _needs_."

"I'm not a _relief _for your uncontrollable hormones!"

"You could be, if you'd just-"

It ends here. She usually slaps him, or kicks him in the balls.

He'll kiss her twenty minutes later and murmur an apology (it's _definitely _a first for him), and just like that, things are better.

(He was only joking in the first place anyway. Kind of.)

They go over their futures again. But this time is different, because _something _is pulling them towards each other, and _something _is making it feel like this is a lot bigger than they thought it would be. So now, both of them happen to be in the equation.

"I'm still going to Broadway," she says sternly, being _very _clear. "Nothing is stopping that."

He rolls his eyes, because that's such a 'Rachel' thing to say. He thinks he might be able to translate most of her language, too now. Maybe he could write, like, a Berry dictionary. So he doesn't accidently turn her down when she offers to get kinky or something.

(Keep dreaming, buddy.) "Thanks, babe."

She bites her lip, because that's such a 'Puck' thing to say. She's getting used to his filthy comments and crass language (in fact, when he calls her babe, it sends shivers down her spine). "But what about you? Do you have any idea what _you_ want?"

He shakes his head and looks away. They watch the sun hover above the ground for a few minutes, casting pretty red, pink, orange and yellow hues over the wide afternoon sky. "Okay, so, maybe I kind of know."

She watches him intently. "Yes?"

H silently wants to bang his head with the car door or jump off the cliff edge, because did he really just open up to someone – let alone _Rachel fucking Berry_? He likes her and stuff, but he's not sure if he's ready to play Dr Phil with her just yet.

He sighs, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. "I like playing the guitar. I love it. It's so rock n' roll. Plus, you know, I like the way music makes you feel."

Even though she would have said it in so many different (and so many _more_) words, she gets what he means. Heck, that's _exactly _how she feels. "And?"

"Well, I'm good at football, but our team is so crap they aren't going to take a second look at me. But I'm good at music, right? And I haven't got much brain, so I was just thinking . . ."

"You want to get into music?"

"I think so. I don't know. No. Yes. I think so."

"You can move to New York – which is good, I'll be there. I'll put in a good word for you at the studios, and you can be the next Neil Diamond!"

He wraps an arm around her waist and smirks. It's funny how she's just got _everything _so planned out, and he just doesn't. Its funny how opposite they are – but how good they are together.

He blurts out this next bit with no warning _at all_. His mouth might as well be controlling him. She reckons I'd make a shit father."

"She's wrong, then," Rachel replies quietly, and he wishes he hadn't said anything.

"Wrong? Quinn's right, Rachel, I'd probably be like my dead-beat Dad. I'd probably get sick of all the shit soon enough and do this just when she needed me most. She knew that, and that's why she doesn't want me to go near that kid – _my _kid – at all."

Rachel feels her heart swell and melt and all that crazy, unnatural stuff. He looks so angry (mostly at himself) and he hasn't even done anything. She's speechless.

But that was kind of the problem: _he hadn't done anything_.

Rachel's speechless. She_ really _doesn't know what to say (a first for her) so she settles for putting her hand on his. He looks away as if it's all good, but inside he was having a panic-attack and he might just have spontaneously combusted if she hadn't brought him back to Earth soon.

"Don't listen to her, Puck. You're a team leader, right? You play a lot of football, and you have ideas in Glee club, and you're a good young man. You would make an _excellent _father, I think."

He looks back at her and says, "You know I like it better when you're speechless, right?"

She rolls her eyes at him and laughs a little. All this fresh air must be getting to her head.

"Hey Puck?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you sing _Sweet Caroline_ for me?"

He does, but he only hums it quietly under his breath. It's enough to make her sleepy, and she falls asleep in his lap. He doesn't have the heart to move her.

(He doesn't want her to move).

He thinks that, maybe, a future with Rachel in it might not be so bad.

* * *

To those who read these things (I know there isn't a lot),

So yeah. School is bat-shit crazy right now. I have four English drafts due within the space of three weeks, one science assignment, one Careers assignment (that I should really get a start on), one SOSE (I swear the teacher is the Wicked Witch of the West) and one maths assessment.

But hooray for long weekends!

I know most of you probably don't care. Heck, even I wouldn't read my rambling.

**But please note, I have a Quinn one-shot coming out soon. It's angst (which is sort of my specialty). **

She's my favourite, and all I've done so far is PR. So I thought I'd give it a shot.


	13. The Screwing of the Plan

The kiss (the kiss with the stranger, not _their_ kiss) washes away like it never meant anything. It never really _did_ mean anything, because as result of that happening, the whole summer has pieced together like a jigsaw puzzle and it's like _duh_, _I get it now_.

The next few days are hazy skies, sweet kisses and sloppy smiles (those mostly being on her part, because he just _takes her breath away_).

She couldn't ask for anything more. She _wouldn't_. It wouldn't be fair to ask God or the universe or something like that for so much. She settles for praying to God quietly when she thinks Puck isn't listening (he is) and promising Him that she'll go to the synagogue more often.

She goes every week (twice if she gets the chance) anyway, but whatever.

* * *

She's been thinking about virginity and sex and penises for the past week. It's because she _knows _Puck and she _knows _he wants it and she _knows _every time he looks at her he's probably undressing her with his eyes.

But he also cares about her (as much as he hates it) and he doesn't want to rush her into anything. But he can't help but feel like it wouldn't be rushing, because for the past summer she's been closer than just about anyone in his life. They've practically been dating anyway, and if he can not only stand all that crazy, but actually _like _it too, then he's starting to think this is more.

Fuck, she's made him weak.

So in the last week of summer when the afternoon sky is dusky and the water looks golden, he takes her to a lake's edge and kisses her.

He doesn't say anything, but starts peeling his clothes off. She's staring at him like she has no clue what he's doing, and watches him until he's in his boxers before squealing. "_Wait!_ Skinny dipping? You want to go_ skinny dipping?_"

"Exactly," he says, waggling his eyebrows. He feels a little on edge and tense, almost like this _scares_ him (but that's ridiculous). So he takes her hand and trails kisses down her neck and across her collarbone.

She knows she's safe with him, and she knows she really wants to go swimming. But that would contain full on nudity, and they'd never really gotten past third base. So she just takes a couple of deep breaths and stares out at the wide waters like it's her grave. He pulls down his boxers quickly before diving in the water.

"Don't look!" she chokes out finally, unzipping the back of her skirt. "Don't look . . ." she says, again, only more firmly. She's _threatening _him, he realises as he wades out shoulder-deep, watching the sun set in the opposite direction. It makes him want to laugh, but it only comes out as a grunt because his throat is thick and his heart is thumping. He doesn't know why this matters. He's done this many times (_**many **_times).

He feels her cold hand on his shoulder, and he can't gather his thoughts at all. Rachel Berry is next to him, swimming in a lake with him alone, _naked_.

Wow.

Her cheeks are pink, and he wonders if she's breathing at all. He presses his fingertips to her neck, right at the point of her pulse, and she lets out a little exhale.

Dragging her a little further out, he kisses her. Its slippery and messy.

This was _not the plan_.

The plan was for this to happen on a nice, white bed in her big house in New York, with her husband or fiancée or boyfriend who could guarantee her a future.

But she didn't plan this summer. She didn't plan watching scary movies, eating junk food, listening to old Australian bands, or the car breaking down. She didn't have a plan _at all _involving Noah Puckerman.

So she figures, screw that plan.

* * *

It happens in the back of his truck.

She cries, and she didn't expect it to hurt. She didn't know what to expect, quite frankly. But he kissed her desperately, trying to wash the pain away.

He does. And she is _so glad_ that he was the one to do this. More so that it was someone who cared about her, someone who wanted her, someone who loved-

She didn't dare think those words. Because she was pretty sure Puck had never said that eight-lettered, three-worded phrase.

When she's collapsed beside him, breathing slowly and unevenly, he rolls over and tucks her under his chest protectively. There's a good half hour before he speaks.

"I'm sorry."

And she cannot _believe _he just said that.

"Why?" is all she can reply, because that might just have been the most uncharacteristic thing he's ever said to her (after sex, that is, she's made him apologise a million times before).

"Because- Because, I don't know- Just because, Rachel, you probably didn't want your first time to be in the back of a truck, with me . . ."

She pauses before responding. "Let me rephrase that for you, Noah Puckerman. I'm lying here, on the water's edge, under a wide, fantastic sky. I'm with a boy I've spent the whole summer with, who's been scarred by the same people for the same things and he _knows _me. So yes, I'm here, in the back of a truck, with you, and it was my first time . . . I _did _want my first time to be like this. I wasn't going to get that with Finn-"

He winces, because that meant she had been _thinking _about Finn Hudson like that and that didn't settle well with him.

"- and I was stupid. I was totally, completely idiotic."

"And now there's me."

"And now there's you."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

She shakes her. "None whatsoever."

"Well, good."

It's like a whole new era, or realisation, or epiphany. It's _something_.

* * *

Words linger on his lips as he watches her change. The forest behind them is abandoned, but she still throws her clothes on quickly. He knows he shouldn't wonder why – it's Berry, and she's crazy like that.

_That's _sort of why he likes her.

He doesn't want to say anything. Like his words might come tumbling down on them, bringing them back to the fact that life isn't always going to be a summer road trip. Because, to be honest, even _he _knows he isn't the kind of guy you want to fall in love with.

Which makes him wonder whether she loves him. He didn't _know _what the hell 'love' was, and he didn't want to get all sappy like Finn. But Rachel _actually _makes him nervous, and she makes him kind of want to be a better person.

But she also makes him want to be himself, because he knows she doesn't care.

Rachel puts a hand on her hip and lectures him about being so 'unabashedly perverted' or something like that. He shakes his head and pushes her back into the lake.

She squeals at him. They stay there for the rest of the day (another _unplanned _thing).

He's not sure if this is love.

* * *

She wonders why he's being so quiet; what he's thinking about. He has that look on his face like he does when she uses her complex vocabulary (or when he's stoned, but she doesn't know that).

"Puck, stop staring. You're so unabashedly perverted, it's disgusting."

Suddenly she's flying in the air, and then soaked in water.

Oh boy, does she hate him.

(Not really.)

* * *

**You know what I hate? Going back over the rest of the chapters and realising NONE of the formatting has worked. So I guess it's page breaks from now on. **

**I'm going to up this to M, because I _think _this is light M/heavy T. I don't know, that's how it's going to be anyway. **


	14. The National Imagery Company

Rachel pulls out a camera one afternoon, and claims that she needs to develop the film. He's never even _seen _her take a photo.

"It's because you've been so enveloped in our summer that you haven't noticed anything else," she tells him, beaming.

He rolls his eyes, but she's right. He would have said it in not-so-chick-like words, but even he couldn't believe how fast the days had been flying by. They were all the same, the moon blending into the day over and over until nothing made sense except _her _and _him_. She tells him to get dressed, because they're also running low on toiletries. He thinks it's her excuse to go to the shops, so she can buy clothes.

Deep down, all girls are the same. Even crazy-ass Rachel Berry.

"How much money do you have left?"

Rachel calculates. "Well, I've stuck to a strict budget over the whole summer. I have about five hundred dollars left."

He widens his eyes; he only has two fifties in his back pocket. She pulls out a list, and he wanders off to the video game section while she gathers everything they need. It strikes him how strange they are together. But then again, he looks at her, hunched over her list with one pen behind her ear and one in her hand ('_a spare just in case'_), and he has to admit she's fucking gorgeous.

The processing machine breaks down, so they have two or three hours to kill. He suggests getting back into the car and finding somewhere else, but she refuses. Instead, she ends up in a games arcade, playing car games.

Puck veers left right at the last moment, causing her to spin out of control. He laughs as she hits him and tells him he's cheating.

"This game is stupid."

He rolls his eyes. "You're just mad I won."

"_No_, I'm mad you cheated."

"Won."

"Cheated!"

"Won!"

"_Cheated_!"

"Won!"

"_CHEATED!_"

At this point, the whole arcade (which is only about thirty teenage losers) turns to stare at them, and he drags her out. "Seriously, Rachel, it was just a game."

She narrows her eyes at him. "I have a very competitive nature."

"Yeah, I can see that."

* * *

Rachel has her thick envelope of pictures, and Puck is just glad she's happy. He had to listen to her rant for a good hour.

"This is absolutely _terrible _service. I think I should make a complaint. Where's the information desk? Don't give me that look, I was _not _satisfied. I mean, _four hours _to fix an image processor? It's ridiculous – no, it's _shocking_! They should be ashamed," she takes a deep breath here and he almost thinks she might be done. He's wrong, of course. "I need a phonebook. I'm going to call the National Imagery Company-"

"Er- Is that even a real place?"

"I don't know. Whoever they are, I'm calling them, and we'll get this sorted out. I am absolutely appalled! To think I-"

"_Jeez_, Rachel, _shut up!_"

She keeps going on.

But _finally_, her mouth is zipped shut and she has a five-inch -thick folder under her arm, tugging him along with her other hand.

* * *

An ear-piercing scream echoes around the car park. Puck slides over the hood of his car, grabbing Rachel.

"What? What happened?"

"Dead- Dead-"

Puck looks down to see an unmoving body in the shade of his truck. His blood curdles, because dead bodies? _No friggan' way_. This would all end bad. They would have to throw him in the back of his truck – wrapping something over the face, of course, so Rachel didn't keep screaming – and they would drive until they reached a deserted spot. There they would frame it to look like there had been a car crash, or the dude had a seizure because of drugs. He was sure he had some weed around from _last summer_ with Finn . . .

The body's arms stretch upwards and a yawn erupts. Rachel practically _jumps _on Puck, sending them both the ground. So then they are both lying there in a heap, with a not-really-dead dead body, and Rachel can't breathe because Puck is on top of her.

"The_ fuck_, Rachel? He's not dead! You attacked me!"

"Can't- Breathe- Oh God . . ."

"Oh, sorry," Puck murmurs, getting to his feet. Rachel fans her face and inches away from the mystery man.

Something clicks in their brains at the same time, and they both recognise the not-so-dead guy instantly with an, "_Oh_."

"Joe the mechanic?" Rachel murmurs, running a hand through her hair.

"Dude? What the fuck are you doing on the _ground_?"

"Hey buddy!" Joe slurs, clutching onto the truck's door handle, clambering to stand upright. "I- Do I know you?"

Puck bites his lip, and Rachel sighs impatiently before gesturing back into the little café in the mall. She throws one of Joe's arms around her. "We can't leave him here."

"Of course not. But we could, you know, just drop him off on the bus stop bench or something."

Rachel shoots him a look.

So instead, Puck takes Joe's other arm and they sit him inside the café. He stares wide-eyed at everything else, taking in the surroundings with a few breathless _ooh_s' and _ahh_s_'_.

Rachel instinctively goes into helpful, responsible mode. "Joe, what are you doing? How did you get here?"

How does she go from crazy to mother in less than two seconds flat?

"Er- Well, I was over there-" He flings an arm east to point out the window, "- and my friend Andrew- No, wait, its Alex I think. Anyway, so Allen bought me lots and _lots_ of alcohol, and now I'm _here_-" He sends another arm flying to point at the table, "- and you picked me up! Have you seen Amos? Wait, sorry, I mean Arnold."

Rachel is so calm, it's almost scaring him. "Amos- Alex- Arnold- Okay, your _friend_, is gone."

Joe slaps a hand over his mouth. "_No!_" he gasps.

While Rachel is going all mother-goose on this guy, Puck is finding it _extremely _hard to not laugh. He orders some crackers and fancy focaccia bread – something to soak up the alcohol – while Joe traces the patterns of the table top.

"Eat up, bro," Puck says, sliding the plate towards Joe. Joe nibbles on it with a sigh.

"What's your name again, fella'? Have I met you before this?"

Puck laughs. "Yeah, you fixed my car."

Joe narrows his eyes and tries to think back over the past few jobs he'd done. Rachel gives Puck and he shrugs, because how is he supposed to know what to do?

Puck goes to pay for the food, which only sobered Joe up a little anyway. Joe leans over the counter, smiling at Rachel. "So, honey, have I met _you _before?"

Rachel nods.

"Really? I think I'd remember angel's face like yours. Guess I was too blinded," Joe winks, leaning back in his chair.

* * *

As Puck heads back to the table, he spots the look on Rachel's face. The same kind of face she makes at that freaky Ben-Israel kid.

"Come on, baby, no one has to know."

"Joe, you're intoxicated. You don't know what you're saying."

"I know what I'm saying. I'm saying _you're _one sexy thing, and I need a girl like you."

"Get your hand off me!"

"Baby-"

This is when Puck's hand collides with Joe's nose, sending him to the ground. Rachel stares at the pool of blood for a good minute before mumbling something incomprehensible. Puck grabs Joe by his shirt and hoists him back up so that they are at eye-level. "You listen here, punk. I don't care if you're so drunk off your ass that you're seeing flipping unicorns, you _do not _mess with her. You don't treat any girl like that. She said back off, yeah? So you back off. Get some respect, dickhead, for the people around you _and _yourself. You smell like petrol."

Joe swings an arm at Puck's face and misses by far. "You can't tell _me_ what to do, kid? What are you, like fifteen?"

Puck's eyes burn, and Rachel figures it's time to step in. "Let go of it, Noah."

He thinks its strange how when they were 'acquaintances', she called him Noah. When they were friends, she called him Puck (as he asked, of course). But now they were back to Noah again (he liked it). He doesn't remember when it started, but he likes it.

"Make sure this guy gets home," he growls at the waitress, dragging Rachel out the door.

* * *

Rachel lays out every picture in the back of his car. There are all different hues, all different places, all different memories.

"I like this one," she smiles, pointing to one of Puck with his hands in the air as he goes down a water slide.

"Yeah, well, I like this one," he says, pointing to one of Rachel and him rolling around on the beach. "How did you take these pictures anyway?"

"I asked strangers," she shrugs shyly. "They were quite happy to do it."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Creepy- Wait, you got a photo of _this_?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. She blushes, and shrugs again. It was a picture of them asleep (well, she might have just been pretending), in the back of his truck.

"I got two of them," she says, pointing to the picture's twin. "And Noah- Wait, sorry, I know you hate being called that and all, what with you badass-ness."

"You can call me that," he murmurs casually, trying to ignore the way her eyes light up.

"You don't mind? Really?"

"Really," he tells her, slipping a copy of the photo in his back pocket.

* * *

**A/N: Bad Reputation made it extremely hard for me to write for Rachel. Seriously? I thought the Run Joey Run song would be E P I C. **

**Although, I'm growing to love Jesse more and more with every episode. **


	15. The Sort Of Almost End of It All

Two days before summer break ends, Rachel wakes up to find Puck sitting cross-legged, studying a map. He looks utterly confused. It takes her a little while before she registers why he would need a map, and she has to count back the days. Has it _seriously_ been ten and a half weeks?

_Seriously? _

Puck thrusts the map at her in frustration, because he obviously never listened in geography – if he even went to the classes. She tries to point out things like the legend, the different coloured lines symbolising certain roads and the grid, but he just shrugs and tells her to '_fucking figure out where we are already'_.

She tells him to stop being snippy, which gets him _really _annoyed.

"I don't get _snippy_. I'm a badass," he scowls out the window.

"Whatever, Noah," she sighs, before pointing out that they're just settled on the borderline of West Virginia. It should take them about a day, if they don't take a whole lot of breaks. But he also points out he isn't a robot, and he can't drive for twenty-four hours, so they decide to get a motel (there is _no way in hell _she is sleeping in the back of his car on the _edge of the highway_).

So Rachel packs up her stuff, showers in the local toilets and gets ready for baby drama and father drama and Finn drama and glee drama and oh-my-effing-God-what-are-you-wearing Kurt drama. They listen to music and talk about hopes and dreams. Again. She seems to like this topic.

"I want to be-"

"Famous, I know."

She pauses. "I think you could be too, if you tried. I believe in you."

"Yeah, whatever, thanks."

From Noah Puckerman, it's like he's actually grateful.

The sun sets low in the sky, and she kisses him softly just for a minute. It's not meaningful, it's not strong. His fingertips ghost over her waist.

He manages to ruin the moment. "I can pull over if you want a quickie-"

"We are _not_ having a 'quickie' on the side of the road, Noah Puckerman."

"Suit yourself, babe."

They do, however, get settled in a hotel room. The biggest room they have, with a king-sized bed. This time, they're also dating (even though they haven't really defined what this is, or what this will be).

And you know, they _are_ horny teenagers. He's pretty sure he could have persuaded her back on the highway, but whatever.

* * *

He wakes up in the morning, and she's draped in the white sheets from the hotel bed and the morning sun is shining through the window, making her hair glow. It wasn't really hot or anything, but it's sweet. He has to swallow and look away, because he could get _used_ to that.

Shit, she's making him soft.

Everything is going his way. Life is so impossibly good; he can feel it in his _bones._ It's like the sun's friggan' smiling down on him like in those kiddie shows Sarah watched as a kid (he was pretty sure the directors were all on crack).

And so yeah, things are all good.

Until they hit home.

It's like there is an invisible force under the _Welcome to Lima_ sign. They drive through it, and the whole summer just comes _crashing _down. Reality is a bitch. She stares at him, and he almost upchucks. He wonders if Quinn's going to jump out of a bush any time soon and throw her baby at him (because now _that _would be terrifying).

Rachel gnaws on her lip and it's like the whole world can be seen in different colours. She chokes back a couple of words, but there aren't any tears in her eyes. He wonders whether she's feeling the same things as him, and he's come to the conclusion that they are both on totally different pages.

Stopping outside her house, he looks at her nervously, because word-vomit is creeping up his throat and he knows this won't end well _at all_.

"Look, Rachel-"

Her head snaps around, and her eyes look so freaked out he wonders if she's going to blow up.

"Rachel, I don't think we can do this anymore. We're back in Lima now, and I'm a jock, and you're a- A-"

"Loser," she finished for him quietly, averting her gaze.

"No, it's just . . . Okay, so maybe, yeah. All the guys are going to start with the slushies again and I'm going to start football and . . . I just, don't want you to get hurt." It was a lame way to finish, but he never meant any of it at all, so he figures it didn't matter. He doesn't know why he said any of that. But now Rachel's eyes are tearing up and she's not speaking, so he figures he's in a fuck-load of trouble.

"All that summer, Noah . . ." she mumbles, and it's so sad even _he_ feels it. Rachel gulps and looks up at him. "Is this what you want?"

"I don't know," he says honestly, because he really doesn't.

"Bye, Noah- Puck . . ." she says quietly, sliding out of his truck and taking her bag from the back.

He slams his head on the steering wheel, setting off the horn, but she still doesn't turn around as she bursts through the door.

* * *

Rachel powers through the doorway, feeling tears prickle her eyes. But she would _not _be affected by this. Not again. Not now.

"Sweetie, how was camp?" her Daddy asks.

She sniffs, wipes her eyes briefly and turns around to face him. "Oh, Daddy, it was _amazing_. You should have seen the lake, it was gorgeous. Of course, Finn broke his arm, and Brittany lost half of her luggage down the stream. But it was fun."

She smiles before yawning pointedly and jumping up the stairs.

_Oh I'm hanging high_

_Oh won't you let me down_

_Back where I started at_

_You know I'm a little lost_

_And when it hurts the most_

_I'll push a little more_

_I'm back where I started at_

_You know I'm a little lost_

_

* * *

_**A/n: You might get, like, five emails about this chapter. The title wouldn't work out and the hypens kept disappearing and _why can we not use parentheses in titles? _**

**Feel free to hate me. S'not finished yet. **

**Anyhoo, it's short. I know. Hate me again. My knowledge of the Ohio Geography and whatever is terrible, so that's probably all wrong. Gosh. **


	16. The Vanilla Flavoured Coffee Stuff

He's innocently throwing his dirty football uniform in his locker when suddenly _slam_ – pain. He turns around to see an insane-looking Finn.

"What the _fuck_, man?"

"You're really getting to me. First my girlfriend, now Rachel. You're such a jerk."

"You sound like a girl."

"At least I know how to treat them."

Puck sighs and drops down onto one of the benches. "I didn't know what to do. She's different. I don't know. It's crazy – _she's_ crazy. And I'm cool with that! It's so sick and twisted . . ."

Finn rolls his eyes and slides down next to Puck. "Start from the beginning."

"Well . . ." Puck takes a deep breath. "It started when I saw you and my kid. That caned, by the way. Anyway, you were holding her all lovingly and the way Quinn looked at you . . . She was never going to look at me like that, man. So I conned Rachel. We ran away for the summer, staying in hotels and listening to music. We even went to a _carnival_! We watched scary movies and had a sand fight and one day the car broke down while it was rainy and so many times I _swear_ we had 'moments' or whatever. It was like we were going to fuck on the spot or something. But we didn't, we just went along with it. So then we slept in my truck on the beach and went to a party and I got really pissed and made out with some girl-"

"_Far out_, Puck!" Finn groans.

"Shut up, I'm not done. She got really mad at me but it doesn't matter, I only did it because _she _had made it pretty obvious she didn't want me. Then I kissed her because she just looked fucking adorable fired up and she said, '_Can you do that again_?' Dude, it was _the best_. We spent the rest of the summer getting it on and when we finally did it, I got nervous or something and you know, I _never _get nervous. It really meant something, you know? I don't know, some crazy shit like that. This summer . . . With her . . . It was crazy. _She's _crazy – and I'm cool with that."

Finn bites his lip to stop smiling. Puck swears he looks like such a _pansy_ it's not funny – but he figures Finn and him are kind of on rough ground, so he doesn't mention it.

"But I don't get it. Why's she mad?"

"Oh. Yeah. I broke it off."

Finn's eyes just about pop out of their sockets. "Dude! _Why_?"

"I don't know! I just panicked when I started thinking of the kid, and then I thought of getting slushied and last year and it was all just a big load of _shit_. It would all change when we were back at school. We wouldn't just be alone all summer – we would have people making it difficult and she'd always be crying and-"

"I know why she's so upset."

Puck doesn't know how the _hell_ Finn could understand something like that – something like _her_. "What? Why?"

"Puck, she knew it was going to be hard. But she wanted you to still _try_. Girls are like that – they don't want you to care. They want you to love them anyway."

He wonders when the hell Finn got so smart (so _lady-smart_). Puck sighs and looks away.

"Wait, is that it? Do you love her?"

The words surprise him. Something sets and moves and shudders in his stomach – something he's not used to. The words hang in the air, and it feels like too much pressure. Too much to answer. Too much.

But then again, he's known the answer for a while.

"I- Well, I think so."

The silence is strange and unsettling, but this is probably the deepest conversation he's had with Finn, _ever_.

There's a shuffling of light footsteps. "You love me?"

He gulps.

* * *

After a talk with Rachel in the locker room (keeping the talking on a minimum level, actually), Puck heads off for the day. Rachel stays behind, because she's going to run ideas over with Mr Schuester for the club or something. He doesn't mind, her fathers are away on business and he can easily climb through her window late at night.

He runs into a short blond in a blue dress and sighs because he hasn't really faced Quinn yet. But now he's alone in a corridor with her, so he figures he should say something. "Quinn-"

Quinn turns around, revealing a squishy, humming, pink _thing_. She'd have to be a solid six months old now. Puck blinks repeatedly, and Quinn takes a deep breath.

"That's- It's- She's- Her- Mine. _My kid_," he stutters.

The baby coos and looks up at him through her long lashes. She has a face exactly like her mother's – soft lips, small nose, wide doe eyes. But she's so chubby that her cheeks hang down and he thinks that is just damn _gorgeous_. He wouldn't care if she was the fattest kid alive.

His baby hides in Quinn's curtain of gold hair. Quinn smiles. "Rosie Fabray, meet Daddy."

"You want me to be her dad?"

"Of course. I mean, you should see her when she smirks. She looks just like you. She's cunning and cheeky and sweet and sensible and brave and funny and breath-taking. Unfortunately, I don't think I can call her anyone else's."

Right on cue, Rosie appears. Her own tiny, soft layers of curls curtain her face. But she gives a half-smile then, and she _does_ look like him. In every way.

"She's smart too," Quinn murmurs, watching Rosie squirm and reach out for Puck.

He has no idea how to hold a baby, but takes her into his arms anyway. He can't even picture someone being so damn _small_. One day, she'll grow up and look exactly like Quinn (but with his smile) and she'll go to a nice school with a nice boyfriend (who he'll threaten every time he sees him to _never _mess with his baby girl). Rosie's cheeks are the brightest pink, and she smiles. It's such a pretty sight.

Quinn slaps his arm and tells him he's '_not holding her right_'. But he lets her shift Rosie anyway, and the kid blinks up at him. "How old are you, pretty lady?"

Rosie giggles.

"She's almost nine months."

"_Nine months_?"

"Uh huh. Time flies by with her, like you wouldn't believe."

"Can she, you know, stay with me sometimes?"

Quinn raises an eyebrow and puts her hands on her hips. "Sure, whatever. But not tonight, she has a crib at Finn's place. Now gimme back my baby."

He hands her over a little reluctantly, but puts his hands in his pockets and follows Quinn outside. "So, your parents still not talking to you, huh?"

Quinn nods stiffly. "No, not really. I saw Mum back at the shops the other day. She walked straight past me."

"Sorry."

"Everyone says that. But how about you, you fixed things up with Crazy?"

Puck nods. "Did you know I love her?"

"Yeah, I heard about that."

_Good, _he thinks, because he's okay with that now.

* * *

That weekend he takes Rachel crib shopping. She cons him into buying a changing table, a mirror and matching dresser too. Well, that's all his pool-cleaning money gone (and then some of Rachel's too, but she _insisted_).

They spend all of Sunday and Monday and Tuesday afternoon painting her room. She says baby pink, he says pale yellow. So her room ends up having four completely different coloured walls, with China dolls and white lace and teddy bears in pretty dresses. One of the dolls looks exactly like her – wide-eyed, blond and sweet.

Puck grins, swiping Rachel with green paint. "She's going to love it."

That next weekend, Sarah goes to a friend's house, so they won't be disturbed. They practically have to pry Rosie out of Quinn's arms.

"Are you sure she has somewhere to sleep?"

"Yes, Quinn."

"And you have baby food? You can't feed her a burger, idiot, you have to give her-"

"I'm not stupid."

Quinn laughed. "Yeah, sure_._ No profanities in front of her, okay? I want her going to heaven. Also, no doing it in front of her. If you can keep your hands of Streisand over there, I won't murder you-"

"Murder? I'm pretty sure that goes against the ten deadly sins or whatever, Q."

"Ten_ commandments_."

"Whatever, I'm Jewish."

"Oh, that's another thing. I don't want your mother going all Jewish on her. You give her a Star of David, and I will _personally_ crush you. She's Catholic, so don't go doing any creepy Jewish baptism ceremonies anything."

"Like I'd dare get between you and the Father Almighty."

"Puck, do you know how much a Bible can hurt if you get hit with one?"

"Er- Nope."

"Well, watch yourself, because I'll show you."

"Quinn, give me the damn kid!"

Quinn gasped and covered Rosie's ears. "_What did I say, Puckerman_?" she hissed.

"Yeah, yeah. Angels crying, going to hell, I get it. Give her to me."

Quinn carefully places Rosie in his arms. "If you _dare_ disobey me-"

"See you later, Quinn!" he says, jogging down the hallway. He'd never get her back, otherwise.

So finally, he gets to spend time with her. Rachel helps him, because he doesn't know what to do _at all_. Rachel and Rosie play with the teddy bears while he watches and learns. Rachel brushes her hair soothingly while Puck hums songs to the two of them.

Finally, Rosie drifts off into the world of unconsciousness. They watch as she sucks her thumb and wriggles and snores softly. "Quinn snores like a chainsaw," he says quietly. Rachel doesn't remember until later how he would know that. So when he says it, she just smiles.

Rachel heads off to his room, but Puck sits in his mother's old rocking chair and watches Rosie sleep. She's got to be one of the cutest, smartest, coolest baby girl in the world (he takes after him, _obviously_, he thinks)_._

His mother sneaks in and cries softly when she sees Puck out cold in the rocking chair and her granddaughter whistling in a slow, quiet way.

* * *

He carries Rosie down the stairs the next morning, where his mother is sniffling.

"You make such a good father, Noah."

He knows it.

* * *

After some delicious vanilla-flavoured coffee stuff (shit tastes _good_), Puck leaves his mother to fuss over Rosie for a while. He finds Rachel asleep on his bed, her hair falling over her face. She's sleeping in one of his old button-downs, which he's used to now. He likes the way it looks on her.

He slips under the covers with her and he can't help but feel like something is changing. There's no 'how-the-hell-am-I-going-to-ditch-this-cougar-before-the-husband-comes-home'. Sleep comes easy with Rachel tucked under his arm.

* * *

A/N: Another day. I hate not updating sooner, but oh well.


	17. The Death Penalty

He has Rosie in one arm and the other wrapped around Rachel. The waters edge is cool and calm. Rachel tells him a storm is brewing, and just like that, clouds roll over and thunder claps throughout the sky. He tightens an arm around Rosie, but the Sea God rises from the deadly water, splashing them all. He silently tells them that they have to hand Rosie over, and Puck is suddenly crying like some wussy-crap loser and Rachel is hugging him. The Sea God takes Rosie, who starts screaming and crying. Puck scrambles to the water, stretching out for her, trying to get her . . . But Rachel runs into the water first, and disappears after Rosie. He sits there on the sand, and sobs to himself.

* * *

Puck wakes up in a sweat, panting. He feels a cold hand on his shoulder, gently pulling him back down to the covers.

"Noah?"

"Huh? What?"

She looks like she's panicking. She _is _panicking. Rachel panics over everything. "You were having a night mare."

Everything gradually floods back into his mind – the crying, the losing, the Sea God (he has no idea where that one came from.) He kisses her for a second, calming _both _of them down. "It was just a nightmare," he mumbles, rolling over.

* * *

He wakes up later to find Rachel dressed, still looking freaked out.

"You know, Rach', it was just a dream-"

"It's not the dream!" she hisses back at him, tossing him his shirt. "My _parents_ are _home_!"

"Home . . . Like, _here_ home?"

She gives him a look which tells him that, yes, _right here_, _right now_. He scrambles to throw his pants back on when Rachel walks out the door. "Wait! Rachel!"

She scurries back in a second later. Pushing Puck towards her closet, she slams the door shut with her foot. "_Get. In. The. Closet. Noah_!"

"What? I'm not going to fit in there!"

"_GO!_"

He can hear footsteps, so he dives into the closet and pulls the door shut. Rachel slips under her covers, and tries to steady her breathing. The door creaks open, but nothing happens. She opens one eye slowly, only to find two _very_ grumpy looking fathers.

"Da- Daddy!" she smiles, stifling a (fake) yawn. "You're back early!"

Her Dad nods. "Yes, we are. We got the most interesting phone call, and we decided we should come back."

"Oh, is that right?" Rachel murmurs, trying not to look at the closet where Noah was hiding, half-naked.

"Yes, from a Mr Will Schuester, wondering why you seemed so _sad_ the other day. I replied that you seemed fine when you got home from _glee camp_, and you can only imagine how well _that_ went over . . . "

"Oh. _Oh_."

Her Daddy _humph_'s _, _while her Dad strolls over to the closet and pulls it open. "Would you like to explain, Rachel, why the man who was supposed to be organising this little glee camp had _no idea _about it?"

Rachel sighs. Puck climbs out of the closet, smiling to try and lighten the mood. "Er- Hey Arnold," he waves, glancing between the two. "Hi Ryan."

"_I'm _Arnold."

"_I'm _Ryan."

"Right."

Puck is kicked out of the house one minute and thirty-three seconds later, Rachel pleading with her fathers to see reason.

(They don't.)

* * *

His phone rings at three in the morning on Saturday. It's some Broadway song he picked out just for her, and it's blaring in his ear like a siren. He clambers around for it, just about falling off the bed in the process.

"The _fuck_, Rachel?"

He can almost _hear_ her roll her eyes. "I'm sorry they kicked you out. But I had to wait to call you; I'm officially banned from talking to you _forever_. They swore they'd even right a note to Principal Figgins."

"Wow. So, like, the death penalty, huh?"

"It's not like I can't live without you."

"I meant death penalty for _me_."

She's silent for a few moments, and he's pretty sure he just made her blush. "I hate this. I should be allowed to see a boy if I want to!"

"Rachel, I'm all _man_. And stop moaning – _you_ lied to them."

"Are _you_, Noah Puckerman, berating me over _lying_? I thought you were a '_badass_'."

"Don't use your big words on me. It's three in the morning, and I'm even stupider than usual."

Rachel sighs. "Goodnight, Noah."

"G'night, babe."

_We're so Romeo and Juliet_, Rachel thinks as she slips under her covers. Maybe she isn't famous just yet, and maybe this isn't oh-so-glamorous, but she's living her very own fairytale.

Their story is as good as Broadway, anyway.

* * *

He must be going delusional. It's Saturday night, and he thinks he can hear Rachel's voice. Well, not her voice, her laugh. That laugh she gets when she's having too much fun that she can't breathe. That laugh where she snorts and her mouth curves open wide and her eyes crinkle.

He knows that laugh well. (It's his favourite.)

(He wonders when he started _categorising _Rachel's laughter and remembers how every time Finn walks past the two of them, he would whisper in Puck's ear, '_Whipped_'. Oh, _God_, he's probably right.)

So he groans as he stares at the clock. It's only, like, ten-thirty, and he's totally alone. His mom took the twerp out to a birthday party or something like that.

"_Shh! _You might wake him up!"

"It's ten-thirty Rachel. He's probably not even home!"

Okay, so now, he must be _really _crazy. Not even Rachel crazy, more like get-me-in-a-straight-jacket-_right_-_now _-before-I-lick-the-walls-because-the-voices-told-me-to kind of crazy. Before he can get the phone book out and find the closest doctors' clinic, someone knocks on the door.

He flings it open, and blinks as the street light floods his eyesight. Something knocks him to the ground, while the sounds of giggling and glass hitting the floor fill his ears. As his vision comes back, he slams the door shut and stares at the six girls in front of him.

"Oh, _Noah_!" Rachel sighs. He doesn't fail to notice that she's riding piggy-back on Tina. Tina does a lap around the room, which sends them both into completely unnecessary hysterical laughter.

(It's not quite the same laugh, he notes. It's sloppier and she snorted a few seconds back, but hey, still cute, hot, whatever, everything. Puck rubs his temples because seriously? This is _not kosher_.)

Santana and Brittany are staring at the television, cross-legged on the floor. He's having a hard time trying to figure out whether they are drunk or stoned, or even both. Mercedes is watching Tina and Rachel with one eyebrow risen, muttering '_damn_' every so often. Quinn looks at him apologetically, biting her lip. "Where's Rosie?" he asks immediately.

"With Finn." He gives her on of those_ that's-the-stupidest-idea-you've-ever-had _look. "I'm sorry! Rachel went by Tina's house while Mercedes was there. Santana and Brittany were already at the bar and they called me. I haven't even had anything to drink! I _don't _drink."

(He remembers two occasions before Rosie when she had, but doesn't bring it up.)

"I can't rein them in," she says hopelessly.

"Noah!" Rachel squeals. "Forward, horsey!" Tina giggles and charges towards Puck.

"Rachel-"

"_Yes_, Noah?"

"Why did you go out tonight?"

Rachel sighs, and puts her head in her hands. "Oh, I was so _lonely. _Don't you know how lonely I was? This much!" she grins, flinging her arms wide out, showing _just how _lonely she really was. "I missed you."

"I missed you too," he says, trying to keep a straight face.

"Down! Down!" Rachel orders, sliding off Tina's back. She wraps an arm around Puck as Tina goes and splays herself across Brittany and Santana's laps.

"I saved you some," Rachel says, picking up her empty bottle from the floor. "Oops! No I didn't. Let's go buy more!"

She heads off towards the door, but Puck grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. "No way, Crazy, we need to get you home."

"No! My _fathers_ are there. I want to stay with you."

"There's nothing to do here, Rach'."

"We could have sex," she shrugs. Snorts of laughter erupt from the three girls in front of his TV.

"Good as that sounds, baby, not tonight."

Rachel frowns at his back, still slung over his shoulder. "I'll remember that tomorrow, or the night after that, or the night after that, or the night after that . . ."

"I don't think you'll remember _anything, _Rachel. She's hammered," Quinn says, frowning at Puck like this is all _his _fault.

"Call the three amigos over there a cab and take them to your place or something. Rachel will have to stay here. If I send her home like this, her Dads _might just kill her_. And we can't have that, can we?"

Rachel laughs.

(The laugh makes him smile.)

Quinn packs him on the back as Tina clambers onto Brittany's back, shouting, "_My turn!_" Santana even tries to sit on Mercedes shoulders, but that leads to a whole lot of shouting and swearing that almost makes Santana cry (and that? Is _definitely _a first).

He lies down next to Rachel once all the commotion has settled down and the riff raff that couldn't walk straight were all out of his house. She stares him straight in the eyes.

"Say it again," she mumbles.

"Say what again?"

"That you love me."

He frowns, brushing his fingertips along her arm. "Why?"

"I don't know if I believe you."

He tries to remind himself that she is _incredibly _drunk right now, and she probably won't remember this conversation in the morning, if she even knows what she's saying now. "Why don't you believe me?"

"It's hard to trust someone with your whole heart. It's hard to love them like that too. And you know, you never really said it to my face," she slurs, waving a hand in the air.

"You say it first."

"No!"

"_Please_, Rachel."

She hiccoughs, which makes him smile because Rachel drunk? Fucking hilarious. "Okay, okay, okay. I love you, Noah."

"Love you too, babe."

Rachel yawns and drifts into sleep in his bed.

* * *

She's prepared and determined and expectant.

She's high notes you never thought you could reach; adrenaline rushes that come from nowhere; vintage clothing and old cassettes and dancing at parties just to be seen.

She wishes on stars and holds dreams to her heart.

She's everything he thought he didn't want, and once he did, everything he thought he'd break.

* * *

He's sullen and strong and maybe just a little broken.

He's rainy days you find hard to appreciate; tacky horror movies playing over; serenades that he may or may not mean and kisses that sweep you right up.

He moves on faster than you can say his whole name and he's only ever in it for the games and the sex.

He's everything that she feared, and everything that excited her.

But they work.

* * *

A/N: Review?


	18. The Episode

He wakes up to find Rachel tossing her hair over her shoulder and tugging on a pair of his boxers. He raises an eyebrow at her, because yeah, _hot_ . . . But why?

"Morning, sunshine," he snickers at her painful frown.

"Morning," she grumbles, placing her head in her hands and groaning for a second.

"So, can you remember anything from last night? Or is it all just a blur of giggling and piggy-back rides?" he asks, shifting to rest on his elbow.

"Yes. No. I don't know. How did I get here? Wait, no, everybody just _stop_! Okay, whew. It hurts to think. Wait no, oh _God_, what did I do last night? It all stops after the third shot. Do you know why I was doing shots? Goodness. I must have been utterly delusional. Please get me a drink of orange juice, with two pain-killers. The type that knocks you out in one go," she murmurs, rolling back onto his bed with an _oof_.

He narrows his eyes and pokes her in the gut. "What do I look like, a maid?"

She replies, "Orange juice has lots of vitamin C."

He still gets her two aspirins and one glass of juice, one of chilled water. But you know, just because he was hungry and he passed through the kitchen.

There's a knock at the door two hours later when she's curled up by his side, groaning every so often. He mumbles a '_please come in, sir_' or something like that, burying his face in his pillow with one arm still wrapped around Rachel.

Arnold Berry is staring him down like he's a fly. And Mr Berry? He has a fly-squatter just itching to be used.

"S'up, Mr Berry?"

"I'd like my daughter back, thank you," Arnold says through gritted teeth, taking Rachel's wrist. She moans, flopping back onto the bed as her father lets go. Ryan joins him, but he doesn't even look half as mad.

"Dude, how'd you know where I live?" Puck asks, standing up (and looking at it from a different angle, you could say he was in a defensive position, protecting Rachel. He'd deny it, though). He figures that 'dude_' _is _not _the right term to call your girlfriend's gay father when he thinks you're pretty much holding her hostage.

Rina, Puck's mom, steps around the Mr Berry's and scowls at Puck. "We met a long time ago, Arnold and I. We met when we were just kids at Sunday school."

Ryan coughs next to him, muttering "bed wetter's camp" under his breath. Puck laughs, and wonders whether it's wrong to have a favourite father. Arnold slaps Ryan over the arm gently, with a fond but slightly-stern look.

"Noah! Why didn't you tell me you where seeing a Jewish girl? Oh, _Noah_. Finally you're manning up! And to think, you whisked her away to some mysterious place, the two of you lying to everyone. It's so _romantic, _Noah."

Rachel must have woken, because she suddenly pipes up. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Puckerman. I shouldn't have come here. I should have . . ." She trails off, seeing her fathers' faces.

"Oh sweetheart!" Mrs Puckerman gushes. "No, no, no. You really are welcome to come any time. I mean, look at his room! It's _clean_- sort of. Noah, how many times do I have to tell you to clean up after yourself?"

"Shut up, ma!" Noah groans, stretching. "Look, Mr Berry's, I really dig your daughter. Not just 'cause she's smoking, either." The disapproving look from Arnold Berry does not go unnoticed by anyone. "Because she puts up with me. Because she's always dreaming and she believes in me, even though I probably don't deserve to be believed in. Because she can cook and I can't, and she's, like, a freak A+ student in, like, _every subject_. Because she spent the summer with a loser like me, and because she doesn't mind who I am. Heck, that's probably _why _she loves me."

"You love him?" Ryan asks with a fond smile.

Puck thinks that it might be a bad sign that instead of replying, Rachel hurdles over the bed for the bathroom. She doesn't bother shutting the door, and everyone cringes at the sound affects.

"She, uh . . . She has food poisoning," Puck mumbles, following her out the door. He holds her hair back and grimaces every time she upchucks. "You'll be fine, Rach. Nothing an aspirin and a movie on the couch can't fix," he murmurs to her.

"That sounds good," she replies quietly, wiping her mouth and flushing the toilet. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Mrs Puckerman and fathers."

Arnold grumbles as he heads out the door, followed by Rina, who is sniffling into a tissue.

"Get it together, Ma," he calls out the doorway. Rachel follows behind them, still muttering apologies stiffly, obviously embarrassed.

Ryan pats him on the shoulder. "She's hung over, isn't she?" Ryan says with a light chuckle, not waiting for a reply. "Thanks for taking care of her. She deserves a guy like you."

Puck thinks that's the first time anyone has ever said anything like that to him at all. _Ever_.

"Nah, sir, you got it all wrong. I don't deserve _her_."

"You're both lucky then. Only a few of us are," he says, watching Arnold walk down the hallway. It's kind of gross because does Mr Berry seriously want them to go down the gay path? But Puck's eyes wander to his mom, and he agrees. Not a lot of people _do _get to be lucky, even people who deserve it.

Mr Berry pats his shoulder and follows the rest of the crowd out.

He thinks he has a favourite Dad.

(He knows it's not cool, because how is he supposed to know what a Dad is like? He doesn't _have_one. But maybe that's why it's so easy to pick a favourite – the one he'd want to be his _own _father.)

* * *

Rachel is watching Rina cook some breakfast for everyone (thought Rachel refuses, as she doesn't want another episode) when she has a flashback to a one-on-one with Mr Schuester. He told her she would find a boy who really loved her for who she was.

And though he hasn't really ever _said _it, Rachel is almost positive Noah loves her even if she has an obsessive need for fame and even if she's a little bossy. Even if she can be emotional and painful and annoying and she talks a lot about things most people don't care about. She _knows _he loves her, flaws included (she promised herself she would never have any flaws, but she guesses it's hard to be perfect). In his words, _hell, he might even love her _because _of those things_.

She likes the idea of that.

He gives her a smirk and a wink, brushing his elbow against hers.

(Still sends those butterflies fluttering.)

Her Daddy doesn't look happy one bit, but she can deal with that. Love is always facing troubles. Love _is _a trouble.

"We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night, nothin' new is sweeter than with you," he hums under his breath. The sound of his voice is just all right; the feel of breath against her neck is all right. She thinks that _this _was what the whole Finn thing as supposed to be like.

"Ah, home. Let me go home. Home is whenever I'm with you," she sings back, taking the jug of orange juice and pouring herself a glass. "Ah, home. Let me go home. Home is whenever I'm with you."

Arnold is watching them curiously, his eyebrows knit together. "You sound lovely together, darling," he murmurs to her, and she'll take it as an approval or blessing or _anything_. She'll just take it.

She's lucky. She knows it.

* * *

A/N: The end.

I've been so preoccupied with my _next _story, I've been a terrible/lazy author and not updated.

But seriously, it _is _the end.

And just a note to **sunshine**, as I couldn't reply to her message. The whole _point _is that Noah is not exactly religious. He'd say anything to shut Quinn up.


End file.
